Dead Right
by mythluver241
Summary: Loki has been receiving little entertainment since his Midgard attack, and has taken to destroying, or breaking, the slaves of Asgard. How will he react to a girl who is impossible to crack. And how will Shade, the deathless wonder, react to him when he orders her to become his new chamber maid? The girl back from Hel. Warning, rather gruesome.
1. Chapter 1-Shadow Servant

**Hey guys, guess what! New story! I'm putting Values on hold for now because I can't deal with it, and this story has been bottled up inside my head for a while. It may sound a little bit like "Sorrow's Pain" by Small Black Kitten, and that's where this story came from. I'd recommend the story very much, since it was the first one I read on the site, and I can assure you that it's really good. All of Small Black Kitten's stories are great, anyway. This one's going to be a little different from Amber's typical ones, different characters and such. More 'romantic', though it definitely won't seem like it at first. Tell me what you think, and again, I apologize to anyone who was reading Values already. I just can't do watching the movie and pausing it and typing right now. If anyone knows a good site with the Thor Dark World script, that'd be super-duper helpful and I could continue it, but I haven't found a reliable one yet. Thanks and please comment so I know what you guys think.**

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Chapter 1

Shadow Servant

Loki relaxed in his room, reading a book and running a hand absentmindedly through his raven hair. Inside, he was debating when Nora, his servant, would arrive, having some punishments planned for her sloppy cleaning work the previous day. Even without one arm she had still made no effort and, if anything, made his floor dirtier, failing to mop up the drops of her blood mixed with her tears as she'd cradled her bleeding arm.

After a few more minutes, he heard the door open and light footsteps as Nora entered. He didn't look around the back of his armchair, still not sure that she had noticed him yet. When she had bustled over to the door to his bedroom to check if he was sleeping there, he shot a burst of magic at the doors and they all shut, locking themselves.

"Your work was less than satisfactory yesterday, slave." He pointed to where he estimated her to be, intending to hear a cry of agony but got none of the pleasure, only the sickening sound of splintering bone.

"My apologies, my lord," came a completely different voice, softer and higher, but with the hint of an edge, as if her words could cut like one of his daggers if intended. He spun in his chair to face what most people would see as a replacement. But all he saw was a new toy to break.

Her hair was bright white, straight and soft looking, hanging down around her face, flecked with dust and grime. Her maid's uniform was like any other, except maybe for the built up soot and filth around her knees and the creases in her elbows suggested that she rolled her sleeves up often. Her skin was pale and her cheekbones were sharp, her skeleton almost visible through her paper thin flesh, dotted with bruises and dulled in color by yet more dust. She didn't look at him, but stared at her feet like an obedient slave would. Her toenails were as dirty as her fingernails. One arm stuck out at an odd angle, though both hung loosely at her sides.

She looked like a ghost, a deathly apparition, though then again, many slaves did. But generally only after he'd broken them. _This is too easy_ , he thought, _much too easy to break._ Yet she hadn't cried out when he'd broken her arm, and now she made no effort to fix it, not ever bothering to acknowledge the splinters of bone that he could see were jabbing at the inside skin of her right arm.

"Will you not beg for mercy?" he asked as he stood up, wanting to hear her reaction, to size her up and figure out how to destroy her.

"I don't know how, my lord, but I will try should you order me to do so." Her voice was cold, calm, and she said everything in a slight monotone as if she had been through this many times and was incredibly bored by the whole thing. There was not a hint of pain, nothing to give him any reward, no signs of weakness having to do with her arm. She really was weak, skinny, and her voice was barely loud enough to be heard.

"Then do so," he ordered her.

The change was instantaneous. She let out a cry and clutched at her arm, yelling, "Oh please, don't hurt me, my lord! Please, my lord, I beg of you!" Tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids, allowing her to look up as long as she didn't open them. Her entire being caved in on itself, shaking with anguish and despair. She had completely transformed, one moment quiet, composed, cold and distant, the next she was sobbing hysterically and pleading for mercy like a little girl.

After about a minute of laughing and smirking and watching her suffer, he signaled for her to stop. She did, and soon her hiccups subsided. When she stopped she straightened up but otherwise did nothing to wipe the tear tracks carved into the accumulated grime on her face. She let go of her broken right arm and dropped the left as well, letting it swing aimlessly. In that time she had not even glanced at him, not looking away from the floor that she had yet to clean. He imagined that all of the pain, the agony, that which he had inflicted upon her was all bottled up in those tiny organs, and he yearned to look into her eyes, to see every single negative emotion reflected back at him, but she wouldn't even let him get a glimpse of them. That just made him want to see them more.

"Where is my usual slave?" he asked her.

"Demoted. Working in the kitchens temporarily," she told him curtly, as if she wished to get this over with.

He smiled. At least she would give him some satisfaction, if not much than at least enough for him to know that he had caused her lots and lots of pain. He loved causing others pain, to watch them suffer, to slowly corrupt and destroy them like a crumbling gravestone, old and unwanted and decrepit. Ever since Midgard a few years ago, he had reveled in the torment of others, but he had no chance of harming anyone as severally as he would have liked. His "brother", his "father", they were off limits. But the servants, the slaves, were perfectly fine for torture. And because he had nothing else to do, he had made a sport of making the slave's life hell.

She still stared at the ground, never even moving, as if awaiting orders. He wanted her to mess up, he needed her to. He always started by finding and pointing out any and all of their flaws in both their work and their life. Then he would break down their mental walls, ripping them apart, toying with their minds both mentally and physically. To all those who stayed, and none yet had, he had no plan, not knowing whether to torture them or to make them go mad or both.

"Will you not look at me?" he asked playfully.

"I am not allowed to, my lord."

"Only at my face." This was true. Slaves weren't allowed to look their masters in the face unless ordered otherwise. He saw her head move upwards, but only slightly, only enough for him to know that she had glanced at his feet, before looking back at the ground. "Tell me, slave, how old are you?"

"In body or mind, my lord?" she asked him, which made no sense to him.

"Mind, I suppose."

"Twenty, my lord."

"I see. And how long have you been working here, slave?" he asked.

"Twenty years, my lord."

"And what about your parents?"

"They left me twenty one years ago, my lord."

"Twenty one?" he asked, more confused than before, "but you just said that you were twenty years old."

"In mind, yes. I was stillborn, my lord."

"Ah, it's you then," he said slyly. Indeed, he had heard about this phenomenon, though he had never believed it, only assumed that it was a story told amongst the servants. The story was something like many years ago, an Asgardian woman gave birth to a child, but the newborn didn't make it. The woman was overcome with sorrow by this, and ordered the maids to bury the baby in the graveyard of Asgard. After a year everyone had forgotten the dead baby and life went on, but exactly five years after the occurrence, a crying, six year old child covered in dirt a maggots was found crawling out of the grave. The servant who found her freaked and killed the thing, dumping the child in the garbage, but the next day, it clambered out of the trash and slunk off. She cried for her mother, but when the woman was finally called to see her child, she was disgusted. She took a knife and killed the little girl herself, ignoring the screeches and sobs of the infant child. Loki had not thought about it, had disregarded it as nothing more than a tall tale. He had not been around during that time, and no one in the royal family had cared for the drama, but he had heard that this particular child had been immensely deformed by the time her mother was done, but the next day there was no sign. In the morning, the kid woke up on the floor of the barracks where they'd left her, and crawled back out and into the castle, calling for her mother again. The events had happened thrice over, and eventually her mother had been driven mad. The next day the child came to find her, she grabbed a knife, but rather than slaughter her daughter again, she held the knife to her own throat, and committed suicide right there in front of her own child.

The child had been taken in front of Odin, who had locked her in the dungeon to try and starve her to death, and after three weeks, she did. But the next day she was up and crying for her mother again. After another year, the Allfather took pity on the child, and allowed her to be enslaved. There had never been a description of the child who had died countless times over, only stories of horror and dejection. And now she stood in front of him, head bowed in submission, a mere maid.

"So you're that child. The one who cried for her mommy so many years ago. I thought you were a myth. But it turns out that you are only a little weakling. Pity, I would have expected better," he mocked her. She made no movement, no acknowledgement that he had spoken except a nod and a simple "yes, my lord", which infuriated him. How dare she ignore him while he insulted her? Then it struck him. She couldn't be threatened. The worst thing he could do to her was cause her pain. But he could use this, yes, he could make her wish that she could die. In a way, this was a curse, not a gift. He would use it.

"What was Valhalla like?" he asked her mockingly, interested for now.

"I've no idea. I didn't go there, my lord."

That was strange. "Where, then?" he asked.

"I went to Hel, my lord. That is where I spent the first year of my childhood."

"What is Hel like?" he asked, wanting to know, for the memories to resurface in her, to torment her mind.

"It-it was dark and cold, my lord." Her voice broke and the first emotion he had ever heard from her broke free. It was of fear, and pain.

Score!

"And what was Hel like?"

"She tortured me and gave me knowledge I wish I could forget, my lord."

"You don't want to go back, do you?" he asked, grinning as he saw her shaking slightly. He rejoiced in her terror, wished that he could see her face as the dread passed over it.

"N-no, my lord, never. I never want to go back there."

"Well, then," he smirked, "you'd better watch yourself, because no matter how immortal you may seem, there is always a way to break the spell, and I may be forced to do so." It was an empty threat, but only for now. He would look it up later. She didn't know that, though.

"I understand, my lord."

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"I have been called many things, but Hel gave me the name Shade, my lord, to remind me that I will never be alive, not really."

His smirk widened as her white hair fell around her face, shielding it from his ice cold gaze. He couldn't take it any longer, he took a step toward her now still form. She still made no acknowledgement of him, not looking up. She was going to be a tough one, and an intriguing one as well. He almost wanted to keep her around, and knew that he would be rewarded by it, since he wasn't going to be able to get rid of her any time soon. A young woman who was unable to die, permanently at least. He would have to hear about it, like a good book you couldn't put down.

Like a horror story that was so terrible that you couldn't drag your eyes away from it.

He took another step toward her and caught her leg twitch. It was a small movement, only about a centimeter or two back, but enough to show him that she was nervous, probably scared by him. He chuckled and in one fluid movement, grabbed her chin and yanked it upward so she had no choice but to stare him straight in the face. She shut her eyes quickly, but he refused to give up. "I order you to look me in the face, slave. Do so!" His eyelashes fluttered, but he still saw nothing, "open your eyes! Look me in the eye, slave, now!" She flinched, as if this hurt more than a broken arm, and slowly, very slowly, she opened both eyes and stared straight into his own.

He leered for a moment, but then what he was seeing registered and his breathe caught.

Her eyes were white. Not full, zombie white, but far more frightening. Her irises were bright, blinding white, slivers of shining grey giving her eyes the look of shattered glass, outlined sharply by the darkest black he had ever seen. He looked closer, and could see horror and anguish, and above all, death. The sorrow of one who had viewed her own mother as she first killed her daughter again and again, and then was forced to kill herself. These eyes had seen Hel, had lived there. These were the eyes of a child who had been killed again and again and again, of a woman who lived every day weighed down by images that no one alive ever should have seen. And all he could do was laugh. Laugh manically until he was out of breathe, feeling her pulse quicken under his fingers and her strange bright orbs fixed him with a terror ridden stare. He chuckled again, darkly. Finally he was done, and he let go of her face, allowing it to fall back to its previous position as he smirked at her.

"Well then, slave," he said darkly, leer widening, "I would watch my step if I were you. As of tomorrow, you shall be beginning your new assignment as my personal slave!"

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If anyone had told Shade that morning that in only a couple hours she was going to become Loki's new chambermaid, she would have laughed in their face, which she didn't do often. She had awoken, gotten dressed in her servant's uniform, which she kept having to replace because of her growing, and stepped out of the servant's quarters, avoiding eye contact with everyone as she always did, including the other slaves. It was a Wednesday, the day when all she did was walk around and clean various rooms, rather uneventful, but fine nonetheless. Then the head maid had barged in and screeched at her to go clean Loki's room. Well, she'd meant that, at least. It was lucky for Shade that she could even understand the old harpy, mostly since she was used to her yelling "you useless slave, can't you read?!" Shade had always wanted to respond to that question, but some questions were just not meant to be answered. Still, maybe someday…

Shade had been told that she was an idiot girl, a weakling, Nora's temporary replacement, to go die, and that she would be skipping breakfast. It had taken a while for Shade to uncover any useful information, since she was so used to getting yelled at practically every morning. When she had, she had felt a little afraid, but not very. She could take the pain of one day's work for the Prince, she could take a lot of pain before showing it, and she prided herself on it. Still, she had seen Nora after yesterday. Shrieking and moaning and begging them to end her life. Shade had done that, multiple times actually, but no one knew how and it was now more of a joke than anything. She was sure that if anyone had actually known how to kill her, they would have gladly obliged, seeing as she wasn't very welcome here. But Nora lived on, crying and bleeding down in the kitchens, annoying the heck out of the other kitchen maids. Shade had tried to convince her not to go to Hel. She still had nightmares about that place, and she had temporarily succeeded. Still, she didn't think that it was such a great move to tell someone that they weren't allowed to kill themselves no matter how much they wanted to, then stick them down in a place full of burning, sharp, and all around deadly objects. Better than dumping her in the barracks, though.

Shade had set to work for an hour with her normal morning jobs (scrubbing, washing, dusting, any other synonym for cleaning, etc.) and then grabbed her cleaning supplies and headed off to Prince Loki's chambers. She had arrived at the door, and knowing that it was unlikely that any royalty was awake yet, since it was only, like, five thirty or something in the morning, she had opened the door quietly and walked inside. But not before taking a deep breathe outside of the door to help keep her sane among other things. Like when you're about to get a shot and tense your muscles in the middle of it, making it hurt more. She didn't want that to happen. She'd done that once, when they were trying to kill her, and it had hurt like heck.

She hadn't looked around, just crossed to the bed to see if the Prince was there. He hadn't been, and that was when the door had closed and locked itself. She had inwardly sighed in exasperation at that point, listening to the sound of the Fallen Prince's cold voice as he chastised her, obviously thinking that she was Nora, and completely ignoring the sound of her arm as the bone shattered under her skin. She looked down to check the damage and saw millions of slivers floating around, poking and prodding the inside of her right arm, about the size of a splinter you might get from wood when you held it in the wrong place. Except her bone was much more brittle than wood and the blood inside her bone was flowing out. She had to admit, it did hurt a lot, but broken arms were like nothing compared to your own mother dismembering you, ripping you to shreds, and doing her best to destroy you, which unfortunately never seemed to work on her.

Still, it was quite an experience, going to Hel, coming back, getting mutilated, coming back, watching your mom commit suicide, getting killed again, coming back, killed, back, killed, back- the list went on and on. A broken arm was nothing compared to getting your arm ripped off. It was just common knowledge.

Loki had turned around at that point, standing up, and asking her something like "will you not beg for mercy?" She had replied as she always did, not really paying attention to the question, just reflecting it back at him in a statement about how she would do what he said when he said it. It was her go to statement, it kept her out of trouble when she wasn't paying attention. Though she rarely felt threatened by lashings, she was never whipped. They had discovered early that that had little to no effect on her, and that she used it more to train herself not to feel pain. It had hurt when she was younger, but now they used her for target practice, letting the guards slice her up using a human shaped target. It was quite funny, actually, because that did even less. When she had tried to point out that they weren't doing anything at all except leaving a cut, she had been elected as stabbing target. That hadn't done much either. None of the guards knew any pressure points, and if someone didn't address it, they would get killed in the next war. She itched to grab a knife and slice one of their corroded arteries just to show them. Or their wrists, that was an okay place. Even that brachial artery under the bicep would be good enough. But they kept getting her in the chest, which could only do so much. They were constantly missing her major organs, which was really stupid since her ribs were in plain sight and they were supposed to be well trained. They had often yelled things like "I'll go easy on you!" which made her laugh because she wasn't doing anything and dying was alright with her.

The Prince asked her to beg for mercy. She was so bored that she decided to humor him, remembering how she had done so back in the dungeons of Hel, screaming at anyone and everyone to stop for five years. She did so again, but tuned it down a bit, closing her eyes so that she could look up, not wanting to seem as though she made a practice of begging. Inside she was rolling her eyes. She knew that he enjoyed watching others suffer, and did not intend to give him the gratification. Still, she had to obey orders.

At long last he told her to stop, and she did immediately, keeping her eyes closed until they were back on the ground and her feet. He asked her about Nora, she answered. He asked her if she would look at him. She responded with her normal excuse of "I'm not allowed to." He contradicted her, so she glanced at his boots and then back to the floor. He asked her how old she was, and she asked him what he meant. That question always confused her. "How old are you?" What the Hel did that even mean? She felt twenty, but her body was twenty one! She decided to confuse him, finding it funny that a man as clever as him could be baffled by a simple question of in mind or body.

He didn't seem very confused, mainly when he figured out who she was. She hated how everyone knew her story, whether they believed it or not. She was constantly getting taunted about her mother, about being born dead, about the suicide and crawling out of the grave, and mainly about Hel.

"What was Valhalla like?" he asked her. Inside she recoiled. Hel had been bad and she was forever haunted by the prospect of going back, she didn't need to be reminded that she had gone there and missed out on the most amazing place.

"I've no idea. I didn't go there, my lord," she told him.

He continued to ask her questions, and she couldn't help but let a little emotion slip past her wall. Remembering her birthplace was almost too much, and when Loki asked after Hel, she remembered Hel in full detail. She could see how Loki and Hel were similar. Hel had tortured her, left no mercy for the month old child, taught her of death and its inevitability through pain. She had rested the agony of all of the spirits she had snatched from life on Shade's back for a year, reveling in her terror and misery. Loki was the same, going down to Midgard to cause suffering to the lower race of humans, then coming back in chains and destroying the maids because he had nothing better to do. It was twisted. It was wrong.

Finally he asked for her name, and she was forced to give it to him. She was ashamed of it, of her name, and wished that he would just ignore it and call her slave instead. She would even allow those idiotic pet names the other slaves and guards called her, like little birdy and kitty-cat, insults referring to her quick reflexes. Just not her name, the only official name she had ever been given, Shade. Shade, the deathly apparition, Shade the freak, Shade the undying anomaly. Her name, like her immortality, was a curse. A curse that which she would forever bare, because there was no end in sight.

She wasn't paying attention until he took a step toward her. It took a huge effort not to move back. Really good reflexes occasionally backfired. Her white hair, completely straight and rather long, fell around her face, shielding it from sight. He moved forward again and she felt her leg twitch back a few centimeters. He must have noticed it. She heard him chuckle quietly, and then his hand was on her chin and her face was wrenched up so quick her neck cracked. She shut her eyes, not wanting to break the rules.

"I order to look me in the face, slave. Do so!" She squinted slightly into his face, barely a blink, but enough for her to register that his face was only and inch from her own. She shut her eyes again but then came the "open your eyes! Look me in the eye, slave, now!"

She slowly opened her eyes to look him full in the face, flinching as she went, knowing what was coming. He was leering, his stringy raven hair falling around her face. He examined her eyes, not what she'd expected. A leer crossed what she supposed would have been a handsome face if she still cared about that type of thing anymore. Getting killed can sometimes ruin how you viewed relationships. He moved a little closer and she felt her pulse quicken out of fear. The whole relationship thing had sort of switched around, now she hated anything that involved anyone showing affection towards her. He must have sensed the speeding up of her blood flow, because he snickered again. When he let go of her face, she let her head fall back down to the floor. She saw his green and black leather suit with hints of gold, fitted exactly to his rather thin form. His hands, like his face, were pale but clean, his black leather boots the same as his clothes. He was obviously scrutinizing her as well.

Then he said it. "Well then, slave. I would watch my step if I were you. As of tomorrow, you shall be beginning your new assignment as my personal slave."

Her heart, now used to this, stopped. Not for a while, it just skipped out on a minute or two of beatings. She reprimanded it silently, then looked down at the floor she had yet to clean. She should really get on with it. She tried not to think about her new job and slipped past Loki, grabbing her cleaning supplies and setting to work ignoring him as she dusted, washed, and made herself familiar with his considerably large quarters.

There was a small bathroom, a dress room, and a bedroom all to the right of the door. A miniature library, empty room not being used, and her new bedroom. It was half the size of the bathroom, barely enough room for the stone slab that was apparently going to be her bed. She sighed, hoping that these weren't her mandatory lodgings now. Jerk maids and lovesick guards she could deal with. An evil god who had threatened to send her back to Hel and was intent on her mental destruction, she could not. She looked at the stone slab. It was completely flat, unlike her normal, brick laden bed. Lucky her, her rock was flat rather than uneven. Great, just great.

The day went on with few casualties. Her broken arm was hard to tote around, but she made up for it by avoiding further injury. Loki didn't seem to be watching her, she couldn't tell, but whenever she sneaked a quick peek to make sure, he was reading his book contentedly. Why then, did she still have that itchy feeling, and how did he know where she was. It wasn't like he released snakes and spiders around his room because he liked the color, she was pretty sure of that. She liked spiders, and thought the snakes were cute, and she let them go about their business of biting her legs. She didn't really care, and wanted Loki to see it. Maybe if he found no weakness, he would give up. She really couldn't do her work with tons of wounds all over her body, eventually she would bleed out, and rejuvenation took about six to twelve hours, though it felt really good.

If only she hadn't let her fear overcome her earlier, when he had been making fun of her Hel visit. She knew that he would make note of that, probably exploit it just to prove that he could, and the worst part was it worked. She automatically felt angry when anyone poked fun at her death. Didn't they understand what she had gone through? No, of course they didn't. The other slaves may have it bad, but they had nothing on her. She had been killed by her mother, had been to Hel, had watched her mother kill herself in an attempt to rid herself of her deathless daughter. Not a day went by where Shade wished that she hadn't come back. Hel would have left her alone if she hadn't intended upon sending her back. She would have slipped by unnoticed, blending into the crowd of spirits. Down there, she had stuck out like a sore thumb, still solid, still with her rosy complexion. Her hair had been black, she remembered, as had her eyes. She had been an infant, a newborn. Hel had cared for her for a year, made it seem like it was all going to be okay. Then, when Shade trusted Hel most, things had changed.

Hel had created her, made her the entertainment, torturing her daily just to get a few laughs from her crowd. Shade had been a pet, a mere circus animal. She had been killed again and again in a world of death, screaming and begging for release. That was where she had learned that begging would get you nowhere. That no one cared. But she still felt pain, still it annoyed her, even hurt on occasion. The dungeons of Asgard had hurt almost as much as Hel, the whippings were an inconvenience because of how hard it was to move afterward.

She heard Loki get up, and looked over at his feet. They were moving toward the door. She moved out of his way and he kicked her as he passed, wiping his feet all over the floor she had been scrubbing. He was trying to get her to mess up, to look him in the eye. She would not, she refused to get a punishment. No matter how painless she made it feel, it still hurt like Hel. Life wasn't easy, she knew that much. And it was about to get much, much harder.

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 **Hey guys, guess what! New story! I'm putting Values on hold for now because I can't deal with it, and this story has been bottled up inside my head for a while. It may sound a little bit like "Sorrow's Pain" by Small Black Kitten, and that's where this story came from. I'd recommend the story very much, since it was the first one I read on the site, and I can assure you that it's really good. All of Small Black Kitten's stories are great, anyway. This one's going to be a little different from Amber's typical ones, different characters and such. More 'romantic', though it definitely won't seem like it at first. Tell me what you think, and again, I apologize to anyone who was reading Values already. I just can't do watching the movie and pausing it and typing right now. If anyone knows a good site with the Thor Dark World script, that'd be super-duper helpful and I could continue it, but I haven't found a reliable one yet. Thanks and please comment so I know what you guys think.**


	2. Chapter 2-Torture Method

**Hi guys, thanks for reading. I'm looking for suggestions on how to make the story more interesting and it would be great if you would leave comments from time to time. If all of you say that someone else will probably do that, i'll end up with no feed back and the story will please no one, so please just take two seconds to review my story so i know what i'm doing right and/or wrong. Thanks a million.**

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Chapter 2

Torture Method

Shade had found her day pretty uneventful, when one considered what Loki had been known to do to the other servants. She had not been attacked as much as she would have expected, and he had left her alone to do her work for the majority of the time. The only thing was when she had been bitten by snakes and had her work disturbed by him ruining it. She could deal with that, and she could feel her fear slipping away, despite her remaining anxiety. She knew that he was waiting for her to let her guard down. But for now he ignored her, and she him.

She heard him get up but didn't look because she knew that if she did he would immediately call her on it and she would get lashed. She cried out in pain when she felt her broken arm wrenched behind her and pulled upward. She cursed herself for not seeing this coming and stood up quickly to keep her arm in its socket. He stood behind her and laughed at her pain, though it was wearing off since he was no longer applying pressure or lifting her arm too far up.

"You can look me in the eye," he told her.

"Is that an order, my lord?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to get into the practice of looking others in the face, knowing that eventually it would get her in trouble.

"Yes, it is, slave. Look me in the eye."

She brought her head up to meet his icy blue stare, noticing how maniacal his eyes really were. She knew to be afraid at that point. He crushed her wrist, smirking as she gasped in pain as the mass of bone splinters collided, making a sort of nails-on-chalkboard sound that made her wince.

"So you do feel pain," he said, twisted grin refusing to leave his cold face. She told herself to stop being an idiot, and herself told her that it was in her nature and to shut up. She sighed and closed her eyes, wishing away the pain. She had never encountered a situation when all the severed nerve ends in the tiny bone shards collided together and somehow hurt even though they weren't connected to her brain any more. His smirk widened as she tried in vain to wrench her useless wrist out of his vice like grip. She cried out again as he twisted her arm around and it did a sort of barrel roll, which arms weren't supposed to do. He let go and she scowled at him, turning her arm back to its normal state. He seemed truly amused at her pain, not like a guard who thought it was cool to like gore, not even the diabolical kitchen maids who fought over the right to break the chickens and slaughter pigs and such, mainly because they at least killed the animals humanely, snapping their necks, quick and virtually painless, she had tested. Loki would rather draw this out, suck out every little ounce of her sanity that was left and then tear her apart. Judging by her rationality record, this wasn't going to take long.

He stared at her so intensely that she felt her face heat up a little. He scared her, more than many but not all, taking a close second next to Hel. But the term close second meant that he was definitely heart stopping terrifying. She looked back at her cleaning supplies, then crossed over to them to finish up early, but he tripped her. She automatically flung her arms out, and almost screamed when she landed on her right arm and felt bone fragments pierce her stomach through her arm. She got to her knees and cradled her arm, which resembled more of a puffer fish or a porcupine, in her lap, picking the pieces of bone out of her dress. Her own blood seeped out of small holes in her limb. She felt like a toy, a mere entertainment, and knew that she wasn't going to have time for dinner that night. Thankfully, it was almost time for sleep, and if Loki let her out she would be able to fix up her arm.

If Loki let her out early.

She nearly laughed out loud, feeling her face stretch into a smile against its will. Loki looked taken aback by her grin, scowling at her. Her mouth dropped back to its normal straight unemotional line, but the damage was done.

"Why are you smiling, slave?" he asked her casually, though she could hear the darkness in his voice like little warning signs, blaring the message "step lightly" to all the world. She swallowed and looked back down at the ground. In one swift motion he had her chin and jerked it up. She felt her brain bonk into the back of her skull, but stared him straight in the face. "Answer me, peasant, why are you smiling?!"

"Because-because, well, I'm not-

"Tell the truth, slave!" he hissed.

"I was imagining that you might actually let me out early. I was smiling because that was obviously an incredibly unlikely notion," she said, attempting to avert her eyes from his bright gaze. He didn't let her, and she was forced to look him directly in the eye.

He leered at her, "you're right. And since slaves aren't allowed to have notions, I'm going to be forced to keep you to myself for another hour. Do enjoy yourself." He grabbed her wrist and looked down, "ooh, that must hurt." He was pulling a small sliver of her bone out of her skin. The blood poured out of the hole, and he sneered, holding it up to the light. She saw blood shimmering on it, with slashes of brightest white where her blood didn't encase it. She looked at it in aw, wondered what he was going to do with it. He didn't tell her, only placed it down on a table and looked back up at her. He let her arm go and she grimaced as it knocked into her hip. He laughed at her pain again and walked into his bedroom.

"My lord?" she called after him. He turned back and she quickly looked down. He walked over to her and drew her face up to look at his own.

"Look me in the eye when you speak to me," he said, smirking at her look of surprise, "don't look at me like that. Your eyes are rather interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, haven't you ever seen them?" he asked her mischievously.

"I'm not allowed to, my lord. Slaves aren't allowed to look in mirrors."

He simpered, "oh, that's right. I would offer you a peek, but I'm so sure that you've already seen yourself. That rule is so easily broken, I doubt anyone abides by it any more. You can tell me if you have, I won't tell on you."

"With respect, my lord, you are the god of lies. I shouldn't trust you."

"But my being the god of lies means that I could tell if you had or hadn't by your response, so it all comes back to my winning. Be careful."

"Fine, my lord," she said, looking down at the ground, "I have looked in the mirror. But only because I didn't always look like this. I do once a year to see if I have changed back yet. I haven't."

It wasn't a lie. She had been black haired, black eyed, and rosy skinned. Now she was a shadow of her old self, a shade.

Loki looked at her intently, and she thought about his situation. The lost prince, found again and trapped, contained in a castle surrounded by people who meant him ill. Just like her.

* * *

Loki watched her eyes. He loved her eyes. Her crystal, shattered glass eyes. Filled with pain and sorrow and death. He could gaze into them all day, feeding on the suffering of her life and death. He felt her pulse again, beating on defiantly until he chose to end it, and then he got the idea. What would happen if he killed her? Where would she go? How would it work? He wanted so badly to find out more, but he first had to watch her die to see. He was going to have fun with this.

"My lord, what am I to do for my extra hour?"

"Sit and wait, I'll think of something eventually." She sat down in a wooden chair by the door, yawning and letting her hair fall around her face, shielding it from his view. He glared at her, but all she did was look down at her arm and sigh. "How are you going to heal that?" he wondered aloud.

"I'll probably kill myself, my lord," she said, "I do every night anyways."

"Every night?" he asked her in surprise.

"Naw, just Sundays, my lord."

"Why?"

"Mondays already suck, my lord. Why ruin another day? Also, it's the end of the week and I generally feel tired."

"Ah that makes sense," he rolled his eyes sarcastically. "So what is it like, killing yourself once a week?"

"Incredibly painful and rather therapeutic, my lord. It's when I let out all my anger and shank myself to death. It also helps with pain resistance," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'm sure," he said. Then he remembered he wanted to watch her kill herself, and decided to make sure he could. "Will you be sleeping in the maid's accommodations or mine?" he asked her.

"I get a choice, my lord?"

"I am merely asking what you want."

"I would very much like to continue sleeping in the servant's quarters."

"My rooms it is." She flashed him a dirty look, then looked back at the ground. He wondered what she had looked like before. He had no way of knowing, but it would still be interesting. He realized that he was staring when she looked away deliberately. She didn't look very comfortable. He'd have to look into this later. For now, he was pretty anxious to watch her die, seeing as he was actually pretty bored. "Fine, you don't need to stay an hour." She looked up, surprised at his sudden change of heart. She knew nothing of his plans. His plans for her, and eventually for Asgard. He only ruined maids because he was biding his time, thinking up all sorts of schemes to get himself out of here, preferably without dying. He thought about her connection with the dead, and her situation at that point. No one liked her that much as far as he could tell, and she seemed like the sort of person who didn't make friends very often. If she knew how to fight, she could help him.

But she didn't trust him, and rightfully so, and he didn't even know if he could use her. The fact that she couldn't die didn't mean that he would be taking her with him. He needed to make sure that she would be helpful, and then that she would cooperate. Something told him that it wouldn't be a good idea to take her by force, unless he were able to catch her off guard, which didn't seem easy.

She looked around the room absently, still sitting. He looked as well, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, though he didn't sense any presence besides her and himself. He moved to the window and looked out. No one.

"Are you doing that?" he asked her, trying to hide his restlessness. She looked up and shook her head confusedly. He sighed and motioned for her to stand up. She did and walked over to the window. He stood back but kept reflection in view. She didn't move, just looked out with curiosity in her eyes. He watched her as her face became a frown of fear and her eyes became bright and scared like prey. "What is it?" he asked her. She pointed out the window, immediately dropping her frown as she looked at him. He looked out through the dark and saw the outline of a midnight black figure crossing the grounds. There were many animals on Asgard, all from different realms, but he had never seen one like this out of the woods. "A panther?" he asked her, turning back.

"That's no panther, my lord. That's Hel," she said fearfully.

Loki gasped, feeling an inch of fear wind its way around his heart. Hel was supposed to stay in her realm, Helheim. What was she doing here? He looked back at Shade and realization struck. Hel was checking in on her or something, like a threat. He looked out the window, but Hel was gone. He heard Shade let out a shaky breathe, and barely contained one himself. He got the feeling that he was now on Hel's watch list, and though he didn't make a habit of being afraid, he might have to make an exception. If this was what it felt like to have seen Hel once from far away, he wondered how Shade felt being the main point of concentration. And spending six years with her, he didn't know how to treat her anymore. He looked at her uneasily, and saw her face of extreme fear as a warning sign. She slowly turned away from the window and her chin dropped. He lifted it up and felt her pulse like a machine gun, speeding much too fast for the normal person. She wasn't looking so good. Her eyes were almost glowing and she was even paler than she already was.

He pulled his hand back as she stumbled slightly. He grabbed her broken arm, wanting to stay above her, but suddenly she had his in a joint lock. Her expression reflected a cornered animal, fighting for her life. He used magic to shove her off and she slammed into the wall. She hit her head against the wall and hissed in pain. He looked at her. She had locked his arm. She had fought back. Slaves weren't supposed to fight back. He smirked internally, knowing that this was his excuse to call her out, to punish her. He had been waiting for this all day. He grabbed her arm again and she slumped. "Heh," he chuckled, "nice try."

She looked at him, as if she didn't know what he was talking about.

"You just locked my arm out, slave! I don't believe slaves are allowed to do that, do you?! I think that we should prevent that from ever happening again, don't you?" He grabbed her arm, the one that wasn't yet broken, and quickly dislocated her thumb, then moved along and ripped the rest of her fingers out of their sockets. She cried out in pain, but he wasn't finished. He took her elbow out of its proper place and did the same with her shoulder, leaving her wailing and her arm dangling uselessly at her side. She screamed and sank to the floor. He knew from experience that a dislocated shoulder hurt like Hel, how would every joint in your entire arm feel? He would leave the experimenting to her. He stood back to admire his handiwork, laughing as she sobbed on the floor. Even she had limits, apparently, and he would see how far those limits would reach.

She stood up quietly, crying over, and looked at him with almost the same fear that he had seen in her eyes when she had gazed upon Hel. He smirked, grabbing the arm again. She did nothing to stop him as he twisted it into a configuration of bones that wasn't supposed to happen. He felt her bones scrape against each other and remembered the bone piece that he had pulled out of her. His gaze cut to the table where it sat, still and silent. He wondered what he would do with it. Maybe he could use it for spells, maybe he would sharpen it stab her with it, or he could carve through her skin with her own bone. Yes, they all seemed fun, and maybe he would do them all at some point. He picked it up and scratched into her skin, writing his name into her flesh. She winced and closed her eyes, trying to ignore him as he defaced her arm.

Soon he was done. The word Loki's was imprinted in the skin of her upper arm, marking his ownership of her. He grinned at his creation, marveling at how well the blood stuck out on her ghostly skin. He silently cast a spell on it, willing it to haunt her forever, so that the blood may fade but the scars would stay through her death and life no matter how many times she killed herself.

* * *

Shade's eyes watered as Loki sliced into her skin using her own bone as a pen. When he was done her upper arm read "LOKI'S" in curvy red letters and she felt her face heat up. Now she couldn't wait to die just to get that filth off of her. She shivered just looking at it. She was his now, apparently. She was nothing more than a possession, an object. She had at least hoped that she would make the pet area, but no. He had claimed her like a trading card or a pair of shoes, making sure that no one would take her. She just hoped that her sleeve would cover it up. He let her arm go and she stepped away cautiously. He was grinning like a madman, unnerving her even more.

Finally he gestured to her room and strode into his own, closing the gold and black door behind him. She sighed and walked into the tiny apartment, closing her wooden door, though she doubted that would do much if the room was ransacked. She had nothing to change into, so she just sat on her rock and looked around, mind elsewhere entirely. She was thinking about Hel's visit, wondering what it had all been about. Hel rarely appeared to her when in the presence of others. She was too smart to do that. Maybe she had appeared to Loki on purpose, waiting for him as well as her. She couldn't imagine why, but that was always a possibility. The fear of seeing her still hadn't worn off, and that made her jumpy.

She startled when her wooden door creaked open again and then non-verbally scolded herself. She hadn't been able to close it all the way because of her lack of arms, and it wasn't that stable as it was. She sighed and got up, leaning against it until she heard a click which meant that it was fully closed. She then looked around for some sort of weapon that she could use to kill herself. There was little variety, only a torch bracket, a rug that was going to be her blanket, and an immovable stone "bed". She groaned and looked down at her porcupine-like arm, wishing that it hadn't come to this. She tried to move her other arm but couldn't, so she was forced to pull one of her larger bone pieces out using her mouth. When she had finally torn one out of her flesh, bringing a good deal of skin with it, and dropped it into her right hand, she moved it carefully over her heart area and took a gulp of air.

Then she plunged the bone fragment straight into her heart, shrieking in agony and wishing that Loki didn't have such keen hearing, but he didn't come thank god. She gasped for breathe against her will, automatically trying to survive even though she was attempting to die. She pulled it out and stabbed again but with more velocity, sinking it past her ribs and screeching as she felt it puncture her left lung. Her chest burned and she felt her breathe coming shallower. She drew in more air and did the same to her other lung, sighing this time as she felt herself drifting off into nothingness. She relaxed, covering herself in the rug and not bothering to pull her bone out, knowing that it would be back where it was meant to be in the morning. As long as all of her pieces were close, she would be okay.

She remembered too late her other bone, the sliver Loki had used to carve his name into her flesh. She gasped one last time, fighting to stay awake, but then darkness came and swept her away to the land of the dead.

* * *

 **Hi guys, thanks for reading. I'm looking for suggestions on how to make the story more interesting and it would be great if you would leave comments from time to time. If all of you say that someone else will probably do that, i'll end up with no feed back and the story will please no one, so please just take two seconds to review my story so i know what i'm doing right and/or wrong. Thanks a million.**

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	3. Chapter 3-Dead and Back Again

**Sorry for the delay. My dad broke his shoulder, i got inducted into the National Junior Honor Society, got thrown into a trampoline wall by my friend James, and binge watched Arrow on Netflix. Please comment so that i know how you feel. Thanks ya'll! :):):)**

* * *

Chapter 3

Dead and Back Again

Shade woke up in the usual cloudlike world between life and death. She knew what was coming next, it had happened a thousand times, but it still unnerved her. She felt her soul leave her body and accumulate in the underworld. The tingling faded as she solidified in limbo, the small dead town that she occupied during her death visits. It was well out of Hel's way, so she didn't worry about her. She did worry about the other spirits who "lived" there. She knew some, but liked few, mainly because there she was only accepted as entertainment. She didn't mind her purpose there so much, just the treatment. She looked around, then down at her clothes.

She wore a pair of black skintight pants, a black jacket and black leather boots. She grinned, glad to be out of that hideous maids outfit. She stretched and yawned, glancing at her destination. The large dome stuck out amongst the wooden buildings, even though everything was leaning slightly towards the gray scale, all colors dulled. She walked down the dirt road, waving at children as they called out her name in excited voices. They didn't yet completely understand their death, and she wasn't prepared to explain it to them. The village was a nice place for them, she didn't want to ruin it. A small boy dashed up to her and pulled on her jacket. She knelt down, recognizing this child as Jamie, a twelve year old boy, who already understood death and her job here.

"Are you fighting today?" he asked her eagerly. She nodded and he jumped up and down. She was almost like an idol to him, he never missed out on a fight with her. Even if the fight club was packed he still managed to squirm himself to the front and look down on her as she beat up whomever had been stupid enough to challenge her that week. "You're early!" he said, "It's only Wednesday!"

"Yeah, this death was necessary."

"Who killed you?" he asked.

"Loki, but only partially. I had to end it myself."

"How rude of him," Jamie said, appalled.

"He's an Asgardian prince, Jamie, he's not known for being polite."

"Oh yeah, I remember him! He's responsible for my death!" Jamie grinned happily.

"You're Midgardian, right?"

"Yep! He wiped out my whole family!" Jamie beamed proudly.

"Good for him!" Shade said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"I know!"

Shade made it to the auditorium with Jamie by her side. Jamie waved good bye and went to the main entrance, while Shade sidestepped a vendor and snuck in through a side door. The minute she was inside, a dark elf she knew only as annoying strutted up to her and bowed sardonically, smirking up at her. She scoffed in return and shoved past him, walking at a brisk pace down a thin dark hallway. "Daughter!" the dark elf called evilly. She gritted her teeth and spun around to face him, glaring and wishing that she had a knife on her.

"Yes?" she growled, hating his every feature.

"How are you, sweetheart?" he asked, not dropping that creepily evil smile as he walked after her, eventually matching her speed. He was a few inches taller than her, but that was enough for him to assert himself as higher in authority. "How's your mother doing?" She punched him in the face and turned away without saying a thing, now dashing down the hall to the metal door at the end. She opened it and pushed past the other fighters who gawked at her and stepped back, offering her weapons that she shoved aside. She only took a dagger from a table nearby and hurried out as she heard her "father" open the steel door. She broke through another door and stepped out into an arena in the middle of a full on sissy fight. She quickly gauged each man's strength and killed the weak one, watching as her knife soared through the air and sliced through the opponent's flesh, spurting blood everywhere and protruding out of the other side of his neck. She laughed as he fell to the ground and clawed at his larynx.

She wasn't worried. This was Helheim. If you die in Helheim you wake up in an hour. It made the fights more interesting as well. She looked up as a crowd of spirits applauded wildly. She raised her arms and bowed, watching in amusement as they all made a mad rush for the bettors table. The other man stared at her for a second, like a bunny, probably hoping that if he stayed perfectly still she wouldn't see him. She walked calmly over to the corpse and wrenched her dagger out of his neck, wiping the blood off on her pants. She eyed it and then through it into the wall, displaying her empty hands to the challenger.

"I am unarmed. You are not. I do believe that makes this a fair fight." Chuckles from the horde of onlookers. She grinned again and pulled out a dark red bandana, "And just to make sure…" she tied it around her eyes, making it tight so that she was completely and utterly blind. She heard gasps from the mass. She had never done this before. Whispers and then more dashing to the betting table. She smiled, knowing that many people had changed their minds and were betting for the opponent. Many people were going to lose their money tonight.

She breathed out, blinking under the cloth before closing her eyes into complete darkness. She felt her other senses sharpen and smiled, listening intently to the opponent attempting to sneak up on her. He was coming in from behind and she dodged quickly. He swung his fist through the air and she ducked. He tried to turn back but tripped and fell. She yawned dramatically and stomped down hard on his arm, listening to the crack of bone. She knelt down and snatched a knife from his hands, then sauntered off to the other end of the arena, still listening hard. He got up and took a couple of steps towards her. She remembered his height, then took a couple inches off because he wasn't stupid and would probably be crouching. She heard him take another step and held the knife up in a throwing position. He stopped and then rolled to the side, getting up and running off. The crowd booed but she tuned them out easily, concentrating only on the man's footsteps as he moved around uncertainly.

Then she threw, hearing the melodic sound of a blade when it comes in contact with flesh. She heard him drop to the ground and walked over. She regretted that immediately after feeling the knife stab into her heal. She growled and pulled it out, stabbing downward into where his face should have been but meeting only dirt. She heard a punch whistle through the air and jumped clean over it, kicking at the dude's face and being rewarded with contact. She caught the sound of a body falling into the ground, but just to make sure, she stomped down again on his neck. One third of the crowd broke into a standing ovation while the rest cursed their luck but clapped as well, yelling swears over the din.

She bowed again and pulled her red bandana off of her eyes, taking in the sight of the lifeless body at her feet and the applauding mass of people. She sheathed the new knife in her belt and pulled the other out of the wall, blowing kisses to the crowd. She waved at Jamie and then walked out, grinning happily. She still had a ton of time left which she was resolved on finding some information. She shoved past her father and strutted out of the dome, practically glowing at the look of shock and anger on the elf's face.

She hurried down the street to a smaller building, covered in dull purple rugs. Conspicuous but quite helpful for her to find considering the blandness of everything everywhere. She entered, pushing aside a curtain on her way inside.

It looked like a complete spam, a fraud of some sort of gypsy construction, made of a jumble of cheap tricks. She called out, looking around uncertainly. At her calls, a small, squat woman bustled in, smiling with dark, crooked teeth. Shade recoiled slightly, but tried not to look too disconcerted.

"Hello my lady!" the plump, toad-like lady sad. Her breathe smelled like a mixture of fish, cigarette smoke, and stale beer. Shade tried not to cough, and only just managed not to wrench her arm away when the woman grabbed her wrist. "How can I help you?" she asked Shade.

"I'm looking for the owner of this, uh, _shop_."

"Oh, yes, right this way," the woman said, smiling with her disgusting, yellow teeth. Shade could have sworn that she saw a cockroach crawling around inside her mouth.

Shade was pulled by the woman into a back room of the containment chamber. The woman was able to walk around quite easily, but Shade was constantly bent over, pushing aside carpets and curtains and an assortment of frilly, tasteless junk. Shade glanced at everything that moved and tried desperately to discreetly remove the vice-like, violet-nailed clasp on her wrist. Finally her grip relinquished and Shade pulled her hand back, massaging the markings around her wrist. The woman either didn't notice or chose to be ignorant.

Shade looked around, "so, uh, isn't there an owner or is this a, uh, _nonprofit_?"

"No, no, I am owner."

"No, you're not."

"Fine," she scowled, "I am the caretaker. Master is that way."

Shade looked in the direction the fat arm was pointing and saw a rather indistinct passage between the lacy rubbish. Shade turned to the lady and pointed at it, earned a nod, and then stalked slowly down the makeshift hallway. She occasionally covered her nose because the stench of wet dog and the lady's breathe became overwhelming. She saw movement up in front and a wide open area.

A woman came out of the area, followed by a man in a black overcoat and a hood to shield his face in shadow. They were still deep in conversation though she seemed to be eager for him to leave. "Just avoid furry animals," she said.

"But my pets-

"Shave them. Shave them all. You have a temporary fur allergy. Plus, those scrumptious-I mean, uh, those fierce dogs of yours are much too fuzzy, they'll have to go, at least for a week or two. I would strongly advise that you-

"She's conning you. You're fine with dogs and any other animals, this is the land of the dead. You can't die again. But I would keep your dogs in an enclosed in a secure space with 24/7 surveillance in case anyone gets _hungry_ ," at this Shade gave a pointed look of accusation at the scam lady who just rolled her eyes and continued to shoo him out the door. The man stared at her, then at Shade, and then left.

"What was that for?" the lady asked, annoyed.

"You can cheat people all you want when I'm not around."

"And what's so special about you?" the woman sneered.

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

"I'm sure," she said, "Now, what do you want?"

It was Shade's turn to sneer. This woman honestly didn't know who she was. Shade decided that it would be best to keep it that way, knowing that word may spread and if the townspeople knew about what she was going to ask for, she could only imagine.

"I need to know what Hel was doing in the gardens of Asgard disguised as a panther and why she appeared to Loki as well as me."

The lady turned pale and Shade saw her stiffen as goosebumps erupted up her bare arms. She at first didn't understand the reaction. People may have been scared to death by Hel, but that didn't mean that you froze. That was around the same time as Shade saw the black knife sticking out of her back and the death hand holding it. Out of the wall. Shade sighed as the temperature change began to affect her. Hel was here, right here. It took all of Shade's energy to keep herself from running away as fast as she could and not stopping until morning came.

The woman's corpse dropped the floor, temporarily dead. Shade knew that she would wake up in an hour or two, but the sight still sickened her slightly. It was more the knife sticking out of the woman's back than anything else, as well as the knowledge that death herself in all her evil glory was standing in front of her, having just killed one of her subjects. Shade slowly looked up from the corpse, careful not to look Hel in the eye. Hel didn't mind, it was Shade who found it a terrible experience. To gaze upon the eyes of Hel was to gaze upon the rifts into the collective moments of every spirit in the underworld's last breathes, the pain and sorrow and hate and, worst of all, love of their life and family and regret at their leaving them behind, were all bottled up into the contained space that certainly didn't do them justice. The first time Shade had looked Hel in the eye, she had felt the grief of her mother when she had first seen the failure of a child that she had managed to produce. Shade had felt the feelings of everyone who had ever had to bury their own child weighing down on her young shoulders, she still did to that day, and it hurt. _No parent should ever have to bury their child_ , she had decided then, _and no child should see their parent dead_. She had chosen then to never have children, that it would be disastrous if one was born with powers like hers, and that no child should ever go through what she had. She would protect any possible offspring of hers by not allowing it to be a possibility.

Hel would take no children from her, she would not allow it.

Hel laughed mockingly, "still submissive?"

"I am a slave now, my lady. I am constantly submissive."

"Are you really?" she asked, "because you appeared to be looking Loki in the face earlier."

"He forced me. I learned my lesson. Back there both of my arms are probably healing from splintered bone and dislocations."

"Or you just thought he was cute."

"He broke my arm, literally destroyed my bone, only to cause me agony, which he succeeded in doing."

"But he's still adorable," she said, dead serious. Shade internally groaned. She couldn't imagine what it would be like if the two most terrifying and diabolical people she knew got together. That would make Hel a princess of Asgard and Loki the king of Helheim. No one could deal with that.

"You know that I prefer not to make friends."

"Because you're so _noble_? No, your reasons are selfish."

"I have felt the weight of millions who have lost those they love crushing in on me from all sides and barely made it out with my sanity. I couldn't take anymore."

"I'm sure," she growled, and Shade felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as if recently electrocuted.

"Why did you appear to us last night?"

"You needed a warning and quite frankly, he needed one too."

"Why did he need a warning? And for that matter, why did I?" Shade asked, confused.

"He needed to know that I am watching."

"And I?"

"You needed to be reminded that I am always watching you when I'm bored, and that that's all the time. Believe me when I say that you are my only mode of entertainment."

"I know that you're watching!" Shade said angrily, looking up. She fought back against the fear and stared Hel straight in the eyes, determined. She gritted her teeth, though it felt as though her eyes were on fire. Hel smirked at held her head high, black eyes boring into Shade's. She was reminded suddenly of how cold Loki's eyes had been when she had been forced to look into them for the first time. The bright, icy blue had been almost as petrifying.

They were pretty captivating, but only the way that made you wish that his eyes had been gorged out. Frightening in the way that made you wonder just how exactly you were going to die.

Shade looked at Hel and felt that same wave of pain run through her veins, turning them to ice. She was still rather accustomed to it fighting off, but this time it was different. She had too many feelings already going through her, she couldn't take any more trying to shut stuff out. Shade winced as memories of death and destruction played in her troubled mind. She tried to ignore them but her sanity couldn't take the gruesome deaths of children but they just became stronger. She finally broke eye contact and stared back at the ground.

"Good," came the words above her, and then she felt a stinging pain slash across her cheek. Blood dripped down her face and into her mouth. She licked her lips and tasted the salty flavor of her own blood. The knife was still in Hel's hand when Shade looked up only far enough to make sure that she would see the next slash coming, because there would definitely be a next one. Shade was so busy glaring at that hand, she didn't notice the next knife when Hel sent it flying into her eye. Shade howled in agony and tried to pull the handle out of her socket, using one hand to pull the blade out and the other hand to keep her head stable. More blood flowed into her mouth and dripped down her face onto her neck and midnight black clothing. She finally wrenched the dagger out of her face and threw it at the ground where it stuck, quivering ominously.

Shade yelled again as the liquid of her pupil flowed out of its enclosure and onto her face, mixing with the crimson blood and creating a mass of black and red all over her face. Hel's high-pitched, maniacal laughter filled her ears and she found her remaining eye making an effort to continue staying open. The world faded to black around her until only Hel's voice was left.

"Time to wake up!" it said, before returning to its eerie, humorless laughter, and Shade felt herself blanch forward in pain as an unseen blow collided with her abdomen. She screamed one last time, before she closed her single eye at last.

* * *

Loki lay in his bed, wondering about the death, how it went, what she saw and so on. It was around two in the morning, but he was still awake. He hadn't slept at all, his mind still active and pondering how he could use this to his advantage. Shade had stabbed herself repeatedly in the chest with her own bone and screamed like any other would, not as if she had no nerve endings, as had been his immediate reaction. He didn't want to kill her that much, just to test stuff out, because he still needed her to do work. Still, he couldn't wait to poison her, stab her, decapitate her, and watch her die slowly as all the blood was dried out of her.

The screams had been rather off-putting. He supposed that they were part of the reason he hadn't slept as easily as he would have liked. He had heard the screams of many as they died, he had caused most of them, but the way that she had screeched her head off, not like a person, but like a creature, an animal, a beast of some kind, it had been somehow much more eerie. He had chuckled to himself, but hadn't felt the same satisfaction he normally did. Sitting by her as her corpse bled out on the stone bed had been a life changing experience. He imagined it would be much more fun with him doing it.

Loki had stayed a little longer, just to see how she would react being dead, but the only thing that happened was the scratching sound as bone rubbed against bone and her arms were reassembled. What he couldn't understand was that one moment when she didn't want to die. She had struggled to get back up right before she had died, as if she was only just realizing what she was doing. He wondered if that happened every time, if the will to live crept into her guarded mind when she was passing from this realm to Helheim. He might ask her, just to torment her. That would be fun.

Loki didn't realize that he had fallen asleep until he was awoken by a noise at his door. He gazed through his eyelashes at the slim figure of Shade at his door way. She didn't stay long, just slid open the door to check if he was awake or not. Loki wondered how much sleep she had gotten, and that made him wonder how much sleep he had gotten. If she had just woken up, and he was waking up now, he had had less sleep than her, if death counted as sleep, which he guessed it did. She was gone, and he heard a click as the door closed behind her. He sighed and looked out his window. The sun wasn't even up yet. He yawned and sat up, wondering how he would punish her for waking him up. He normally got up at five, but she didn't know that. If it was even earlier than that, she was going to get it for sure. He had some poison with her name on it.

He got out of bed and crossed to his dresser, quickly slipped out of his pants and into his leather outfit, and silently crept out the door. She wasn't there, so he guessed that she was in one of his other rooms. He looked around and saw that the door to his personal library was ajar, though he heard no noise. He looked around. No other possible place that she could be, so he snuck inside silently. His library consisted of a few small shelves, a tenth of a tenth of a fraction of Asgard's book supply, but it suited him. She was a couple rows away, her back turned, taking out books and dusting them off one by one. She did this all silently, replacing every book quickly but leaving no evidence that she had ever been there besides a strange lack of dust that often followed dusting. She didn't even notice him as he slowly stalked toward her, not even moving when he stood right behind her.

"Would you like breakfast, my lord?" Shade asked, making him jump. She hadn't even turned around, hadn't even acknowledged Loki's presence besides asking him if he was hungry. She was good at this.

"No. Actually, I would like to know what time it is and how best to punish you for waking me up, slave!"

She turned around, a defiant look plastered on her face, and stared him straight in the face. He smirked, "gaining some confidence, are we?"

Shade looked at him confusedly and he grinned even wider, "I'm sorry, my lord?"

"You looked me in the face, slave. Apparently words _do_ register in your puny brain, not just float through your numb little skull."

He caught the fist as it flew towards his chest and spun it around her back, pinning it there. She looked rather afraid, as if she hadn't meant to do it. Loki wondered again if she knew how to fight, and that made him wonder if she would be helpful in his way out. And that made him want to test it.

"Do you fight, slave?"

Shade looked at the ground, "no."

Loki grew angry, sensing the untruth laced in her words, "do not lie to me, slave!" He pulled the arm higher and she winced.

"I have never fought, my lord. At least not in the realm of the living!"

He smiled, curious now. "Not in the realm of the living? You fight in Helheim?"

"Yes."

Loki took a step back from her and leaned against the book shelf behind him, scrutinizing her. There was no muscle, or if there was, it was hidden. Shade was weak. "What do you mean, slave?"

"Every time I die, I wake up in a small town at the edge of Helheim. There is a fight club, my lord. I fight there. I haven't lost since the first time I died."

"When was that?"

"When I was twelve, I began to kill myself. I hated life, my lord, it hurt too much. But I couldn't die. I couldn't rid myself of slavery, so I settled to fight there, to let out my anger. It worked, and I won. Then the people wanted me back. I was forced to fight for about a year. Then I began to enjoy it, I actually looked forward to it. I gained friends, and a crowd, and lots of fighting expertise. People bet on me, now, not against me." She was grinning absentmindedly. The little speech was touching, but not for him. It only raised more questions, number one being how he could get her to help him get out. How could he get her to display her capability without getting himself hurt? She really was fascinating.

He saw her back away as the frown slowly left her face and Shade got back to her work. She was blushing slightly, it was obvious that she hadn't intended to tell him that much. Knowledge of her was leverage and she knew it as well as him. She had to be careful. And he had to make sure that she wasn't, that she would let more stuff slip.

She dusted more books, and he debated how to get Shade to trust him. Or at least work with him. Loki had to figure out a way to see her fight, to appear in the underworld. He would look it up, he decided, but he couldn't confide in her. If she knew what he was up to, she would close herself off completely, and then where would he be. He hadn't realized how much he needed an accomplice until the opportunity had presented itself. He smiled and looked at her slim form, wishing that he knew how to get to her. He didn't, however, not yet. But he soon would, and then he would exploit her weaknesses, make her vulnerable, and move in for the kill. All metaphorically, of course. Loki couldn't actually kill her, but he make sure that she wasn't a threat.

He grabbed her left arm and felt her shiver. "We're going outside."

"Why, my lord?"

He slapped Shade across the face, "don't ask questions!" Loki actually didn't know why. He didn't even like warmth. Still, it was fall, and fall meant that everything was either dying or preparing for it.

Autumn on Asgard wasn't really that cold, but winter was. Not that it made any difference to him, the cold didn't bother him. He wondered how much it would annoy her. She didn't appear to go out often. There was no tan on her skin, in fact, there was no mark at all. Her pale white skin was practically flawless, unmarked by scars or freckles or anything. Loki noticed that her sleeve was deliberately drawn down over her left arm, and he grinned. He had made his mark. He pulled up Shade's sleeve and felt her shiver again. Loki wondered if his hands were cold or if she was just afraid. Both were likely, but the latter more so. There it was, LOKI'S, written in his nice, curvature hand writing on the area where her bicep should have been. He moved his thumb across the scar and felt her try to jerk away, but only clenched her arm tighter.

The scar was white, even more than her skin, and still indented slightly. It wasn't so noticeable, not to the untrained eye, but it was nice to know that she would be marked like that forever, that she would never forget everything he did to destroy her mind.

Loki moved his hand down her arm to her wrist, pulling her out of the library and basically throwing her into the wall. Shade fell against it and her head snapped backward, knocking into the wall with a sickening crunch. She stumbled up and turned to the door out of his chambers. She opened it for him and he walked out, not even bothering to look at her, still wondering if he was doing the right thing. She would never trust him if he was constantly attempting to kill her. But she would know better than to fall for an abrupt change of heart. He could take it slow, little by little so that she didn't even notice the change. That would take a lot of patience, but it was probably his best bet, and he had all the time in the world.

* * *

Shade followed behind Loki, wondering what this was all about. She knew that Loki occasionally did leave his chambers, to get a book or walk the grounds, but there was generally a reason. Maybe he was going to try to kill her. That would be rather annoying, considering it wasn't even sun up yet and she still had millions of chores to do. She was glad that she had dodged the question about time, because it was only about four in the morning. She had woken up at two o'clock exactly, two hours after her killing. She was supposed to get around four to six hours of sleep afterward, but she had been too afraid to sleep. She felt tired now and wished that she could have slept.

Loki walked before her, all intimidation and strength, though there was no one roaming the halls at this time in the morning. The normal slaves woke up around four forty-five. And the first thing they did was tidy up the castle. They never went outside before dawn. Not even Shade had been bored enough to break that particular rule.

Shade's thoughts turned to the scar on her arm and she looked down on it, willing it to go away. It didn't, however, and she was forced to relive the entire situation where she had gotten it. That made her remember the bone shard, and her eyes widened. She looked down at her right arm and saw clearly a small sliver was missing from the lower forearm. She sighed. Next time she died, she would be sure to have the bone with her.

"Do you like it?" he asked mischievously, not turning around.

"What, my lord?"

"The scar, do you like it?"

"I can't say that I do, my lord," she said, completely truthful.

He chuckled, "I'm sure." She felt another miniature spasm run down the back of her neck. Shade didn't know what it was, but he terrified her. Like when he got too close and she couldn't back away or hit him like she would in the realm of the dead. She was either defenseless or punished. Normally she would choose punished, but not this time. She cursed herself for letting emotion slip through her mask and didn't notice that they were entering the forest until a raven swooped down and perched on her shoulder. She looked at it closely, making sure that it wasn't Hel. Loki had stopped to look at her and the raven, who she quickly shooed away. It wasn't Hel, and therefore wasn't important.

"Friend of yours, slave?" Loki asked, apparently curious, though she was sure that was an act.

"I don't have friends, my lord. Not in the realm of living."

"Heh, I'm sure."

"But," she said hesitantly, "I have a thing with predators and stuff like that. I've never known why, I can only assume that it has to do with my murderous gravity. Carrion eating animals often seem to follow me around. It is rather annoying, my lord, where ravens are concerned."

He laughed and pointed to a bush. Shade saw a pair of yellow eyes peeking out through the leaves, and took a step back tentatively.

"Be completely still, my lord," she told Loki. Seeing Hel as a panther that night had reminded her of the dangerous beasts in the forest, and that had reminded her about how dangerous beasts always seemed to be attracted to her. She looked around and suddenly found herself examining every crevasse and shadow in her peripheral vision, getting jumpy. She wasn't scared of the beasts, not consciously, but her instincts were also there, getting killed didn't erase them. If anything, they made her jumpier. She was even more afraid because of how much torture she would go through if Prince Loki was injured, by both himself and the guards of the castle. Even in the woods area of the rather extensive list of biomes Asgard contained were full of wolves, bears, bobcats, lynx, and even the occasional tiger. Everywhere, poisonous snakes and insects had the opportunity to strike. It wasn't all that dangerous, not nearly as dark or widespread as Vanaheim, but that didn't make it any less scary. Shade looked back at the bush, preparing herself to run, and whistled softly.

Immediately a grey wolf came barking out of the scrub, followed by five young pups. Shade sighed in relief. Hel didn't have pups. Shade was jerked back to reality when Loki snickered. She turned slowly to him, as did the wolf mother and kids. The wolf growled, baring its teeth, and Shade wished that Loki would just shut up. But he didn't, he just kept laughing. Soon his howls were joined by others, and he stopped, expression one of dead seriousness. Shade looked around, frightened but willing to fight.

* * *

 **Sorry for the delay. My dad broke his shoulder, i got inducted into the National Junior Honor Society, got thrown into a trampoline wall by my friend James, and binge watched Arrow on Netflix. Please comment so that i know how you feel. Thanks ya'll! :):):)**


	4. Chapter 4-Fighting and Fandral

**I'm so, so sorry for this few month delay. I have no excuse except that I've been in serious writers block, and if any of you are writers, you know how hard it is to write something good when you are low on inspiration. Please leave me feedback; I want to know if I've strayed from the previous story line at all. Thank you to anyone who is still reading.**

* * *

Chapter 4

Fighting and Fandral

Shade bounded back as a tiger burst through the brush at Loki. He easily deflected it and looked at Shade. "A tiger, slave?" he asked, amusedly.

"I guess, my lord."

"Aren't you going to try to fight it, slave?"

"Is that an order, my lord, or a question?"

"An order, I suppose, slave," he said thoughtfully. She sighed and looked at the ground, wondering how best to counter the agility of a tiger.

"You don't happen to have a knife, my lord, do you?"

"I'm afraid not, slave."

Shade groaned and crouched on the ground, staring at her opponent. The tiger just looked at her. It didn't want to fight. Nor did she, but she had no choice. She growled at it, trying to send it away, but all it did was pad over to her and nudge her curiously with its head. She looked at Loki again, but he was watching the tiger. Shade smiled. This was going to be easy. She stood up and ran off into the woods. Loki called after her but Shade ignored him. She needed a stick, a long one, if she was going to fight the tiger. She grabbed one and turned back. The tiger had followed her. She sighed and went back to the area Loki had been. He stood still and looked at her when she arrived back in the miniature clearing. She wondered why he wanted her to fight, but supposed being a prince under house arrest was rather boring.

She stood and looked at the orange and black cat head butting her leg. She couldn't wait to get rid of it.

She hit it fiercely with the stick and it hissed and bounced backward angrily. It no longer seemed like an adorable house cat, but an angry predator. Shade grinned, excited. She had never fought a tiger before, only men. She had seen tigers and knew how they worked, basing them off house cats that Asgard occasionally took in, but this was much more fun than fighting off a house cat. She jumped aside as it pounced at her and slashed her dress with its now prominent claws. Shade felt her abdomen sliced open and yelled, but happily. She jumped in the air about six feet and kicked the flying cat into a tree, grabbing the branch above her and pulling herself up the tree. Loki leaned against a tree behind her, yawning. Shade rolled her eyes and bounded down the tree to attack the angry cat. Her chest was bleeding a bit, but she knew that the scratches weren't that deep and that she wouldn't faint from blood loss. If she played her cards right, she wouldn't even have to kill herself.

She rolled to the side as the cat flew from a tree at her head. She ducked and stuck the stick into its stomach. It howled and slashed her face. She felt her cheek and looked at her fingers. Blood, a lot of it. But both eyes were still operational, so she didn't worry. She did, however, hit the bleeding tiger again. It whimpered and backed away, than streaked into the woods, away from her and Loki, who yawned again and laughed a little. Shade laughed as well, laughed at how much easier it was to kill when you knew that it wasn't permanent. When it was a person. She didn't know why, but it was always easier to kill people instead of animals, like animals were the innocent ones and the humans were the ones that deserved to die painfully. That didn't keep her from fighting animals, just from killing them.

Shade heard Loki walk over to her and tensed, expecting pain of some sort, but he didn't hit her. She turned around and stood completely still, an inch from Loki's face. He was smiling but he still looked evil. "Could you kill a person, slave?"

"Definitely, my lord," she said, truthfully.

"But not the tiger?"

"It's much easier to kill people, my lord. They have more intelligence. And little senses and instincts. Plus, they're much more fun!"

"Do you kill people often?" he asked.

"Not in the-

"Realm of the living," he finished for her, and chuckled a little, taking a step back. Shade did as well and looked around. Loki walked away out of the forest and Shade followed obediently.

She wondered what that had been about. Did he want her to kill someone? She wouldn't mind that so much. But she couldn't do that. The laws of Asgard and the allfather far overruled the wishes of the fallen prince. Killing someone for him wouldn't be doing society a favor. More likely it would be killing off a pretty important and kind person who would be nice even to her. Shade could always deal with getting her hands dirty, but not for a person like that.

* * *

"Uh, my lord?" she asked, glaring at his back.

"Yes, slave?" he said, without turning back.

"May I ask why you told me to fight a tiger?"

He spun around and backhanded her in the face. Shade stumbled backward but didn't make any noise. "NO! YOU MAY NOT!"

Shade looked at him, surprised at his reaction, and then regarded the ground passively. Loki realized now that this may not be the best route to trustworthiness. He looked at her face, attempting to look guilty, but she just stared at him, puzzled. She then shrugged and indicated the castle. Loki startled slightly and turned back to the castle.

Shade followed him down the hall and into his room. Loki walked into his bedroom and shut the door, turning around before the door was closed to see Shade grabbing her cleaning supplies from the library. He sat down on his bed, got up, and then fell backward. He felt exhausted, and really wanted to go to sleep, but couldn't think of why. Then he remembered how early it had been when he had awoken and sighed, wondering how she had dodged the question about the time. Finally he decided that he would bother with her later and just go to sleep.

His dreams were more like plans, a constant stream of how-the-Hel-am-I-going-to-get-her-to-trust-me ideas that didn't seem like they were going to work. Finally he settled on his original thought of slowly changing, but he also realized that he would actually have to make an effort, that it wouldn't just change on its own. He woke up with a new mindset that he was going to change her by "changing" himself. He looked out the window and was greeted by a short spell of blindness. He stretched and yawned and heard his back crack. He looked down and saw slaves swarming through the garden, clipping bushes and such but avoiding the woods.

He silently opened the door and looked out. Shade was on the floor, scrubbing it with a look on her face that suggested that she was dead inside, which was probable. He snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She started and looked behind her. He was tempted to slap her, but thought better of it. He instead smiled and pointed at the ground, "you missed a spot."

She blinked and looked at the crystal clean ground, "are you sure, my lord?"

"It seems perfectly clear to me."

"Exactly my point, my lord."

It took him a second to realize what she meant, and that made him want to slap her again. He instead knelt down and touched the area. "Right there."

"There's nothing there, my lord. Are you sure you're not just tired?"

He laughed and walked away, watching her relax as if she had been tense. It was rather annoying that she was afraid of him all the time. That just made this whole thing harder. He decided that it would be a good idea to read up on this type of stuff, and, sure that he would find some good sappy research books, left his dorm and walked down the hall to the library. He looked around and shoved through a couple of maids scrubbing the floor. They looked up in fright, not used to royalty out this early and terrified that it was him rather than, say, Thor or Frigga.

Loki strode down the hall, along the route that he had often taken when he had been younger, into the library. He entered the cavernous room and was caught in temporary awe at how many books and shelves there were without any sign of movement besides all of the dust that tossed around his face because of his breathe.

Loki immediately hurried into the depths of the room, feeling himself relax from his normally intimidating visual. Being around others made him self-conscious, and that made him try to be the biggest man he could be. Here, he knew no one would judge him, not even for his parentage, because no one was no one to be there. Loki was tempted to sit back and relax and stay there for all eternity, but that was never going to happen. His best bet to get out of Asgard was back in his room, and his best bet for convincing her to help him was probably in this library.

He strolled down the shelves, searching for any book that could help him in his situation. He finally caught sight of a helpful looking section of books, way in the back of the library. He picked one out and looked behind the back cover. It seemed unrealistic, so he put it back. He looked through another but none of them said anything about deathless women who were dark and dangerous, or any ways in a situation when the said woman didn't trust him or ever really would. He tried looking again and again, but all of the books spoke of women as idiotic animals, as if they were objects. He doubted that there would be any way to even try to speak to Shade like that, or any more than he already did, which was what he was trying to stop.

He sighed, knowing that there was no way to find any useful information on the subject, in this library at least. He sighed again, angrily, cursing the fact that the library had let him down. He knew where he would have to go for the information, but he didn't like it. The only place he knew he could find all of the information he was looking for, was also the only place he didn't want to see. Thor, god of thunder, adoptive brother of Loki himself, and _extreme_ ladies' man.

Unfortunately, Loki and Thor weren't on the best of terms. Ever since they had had that little argument about how Loki wanted Midgard, but Thor didn't want him to rule it and so on. Still, since this was for his own benefit, and not a long or heartfelt conversation, he figured that he could maybe survive an hour of his brother's otherwise pointless information.

He turned around, new inspiration flaming in his mind, and walked purposefully out of the silent and empty library. He stopped a second to glance at a shelf to his left. A couple of titles stuck out, mainly involving deadly magic and horrific fiction. He chose a few and read the back. They seemed interesting enough, so he slipped them under his arm and continued on his way.

When he got back to his room to drop off the books he saw Shade hard at work scrubbing the floors in his room. She didn't even look, he wondered if she heard him at all, but assumed that she did because of how she tensed slightly. He sighed and rolled his eyes, wishing that he could let himself kick her, but he couldn't. He had to "play nice" until he had gained her trust.

He left and walked down the hall, wondering where Thor could be. He peaked through a few doorways, but only scared the hell out of a few maids and a soldier. Yawning, he wondered if it were possible that Thor could be asleep. It was only around ten o'clock or so, and his brother wasn't known to be a morning person. As kids, Thor had slept until lunch, and only woken up when the aromas of delicious food had been wafted through his door that had been strategically placed right near the dining hall for just that occasion. It wasn't always necessary, only when Loki was having an off day. Loki had been his wakeup call most mornings, in an ever entertaining variety of ways.

Loki smiled to himself, remembering one particular instance involving a bucket of ice and a bit of rope, plus a little bit of magic. A couple of guards must have mistaken his smiling for malcontent and Loki saw them fingering their weapons apprehensively. He smiled even more then before and let out a laugh just to humor them. They looked taken aback, and even more so when he ignored them and walked on away.

He couldn't, however, disregard the attack that came from behind.

"Brother!" came the rough voice of his adoptive brother as he felt as though his ribs were cracking from the strain. He was sorry to admit that he didn't have as much muscle as he would have liked in that area, or anywhere else for that matter. That probably would have been helpful in his current predicament. He wasn't strong or handsome and it seemed more like girls preferred that quality rather than intelligence.

He gritted his teeth as Thor hugged him some more, clenching his fists angrily. He felt the guards gaze on him and Thor and finally couldn't stand it. "Get off of me!" he growled.

Thor released him and Loki was finally allowed to turn around. He glared at his brother, but some part of him, the part that had been his main source of doubt throughout his Midgard take over, was almost glad to see him. He shut that part of himself out and locked the metaphorical door, laying against it and sweating. He looked at Thor in hatred, with eyes blazing. Thor's smile didn't waver one bit. He actually laughed, possibly to annoy him, possibly to be an idiot as usual.

"You finally came to visit!" Thor grinned, then looked at him suspiciously, "wait, you are here to visit, aren't you?"

"I don't need to visit. I _live_ here, Thor."

"But you never come out of your room!" Thor yelled boisterously. Loki wished that it hadn't come to this, that the library hadn't failed him, but apparently it was unavoidable. He groaned, mustering all of his willpower, and smiled forcedly. It actually produced physical pain, and turned into more of a grimace. Thor just kept grinning happily. God, he really was an idiot.

"I leave my room. See, I'm out right now. And I took a walk this morning, and I'm not stuck in my room, I just prefer confinement."

"You with your maids."

"What?"

"I'm just saying that you spend way too much time in your room with your maids alone."

"Whatever you are implying, Thor, it is untrue."

"What _do_ you do with them, anyway?" Thor asked.

"I generally break them."

"Break them?"

"Destroy them mentally and physically. It helps pass time."

"Their people, not animals!" Thor said indignantly.

"You're no better," Loki said truthfully, "flirting with them every chance you get. At least I don't treat them like two dimensional beings."

"How can you say that?"

"It is completely accurate, is it not?"

To that Thor had no response. Loki smirked. His brother never changed. The filthy womanizer.

"Loki, what do you want?" Thor growled.

"You're the one who attacked me! I was just walking around!"

"Oh," Thor said, suddenly quiet and downcast. Loki smirked wider, glad to see his idiotic brother's sad puppy face.

"But, I could do with a little advice."

Thor's face brightened immediately. He grinned happily at Loki, apparently overjoyed. _Oh please_ , Loki scoffed, _it's not like I wanted to do this._ "How can I help you?!" Thor asked cheerily.

Loki wished that he didn't have to do this, but if he wanted to escape, he would need the help of Shade, meaning Thor would need to help him. It made him feel a little bit better when he realized that Thor would be helping him out of the castle by accident. "Well," he said, trying to muster enough courage to say what had to be said, "it's just, there's this girl, and-

"HAAAAA!" Thor laughed. He collapsed into fits of laughter that made Loki blush slightly against his will. Really, it wasn't such a big deal. It wasn't like he was confessing eternal love or something. He had only said 'there's this girl', and then Thor had started laughing hysterically.

"What?" Loki asked indignantly.

"Well, I never thought that I'd here you say that!" Thor bellowed, "I'm so proud!"

"Hey, can you help me or not?"

"I sure can, little brother!" Loki didn't even bother trying to correct him, he was too busy glowering at the guards snickering behind their hands. "What is it that you need advice on?" Thor winked.

"Well, nothing much," Loki shrugged, "The only problem is that she's terrified of me and the strangest person I've ever met and almost never makes eye contact or speaks and I have no idea how to interact with her without wishing that I could slap her out of habit but she doesn't respond to anything I do with more than a sentence or two and she's always working and-

"Wow," Thor gaped.

"What?"

"Girls aren't supposed to be that-that _infuriating_ ," he gawped, "They're just supposed to smile and laugh and be silly."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"They're always like that!" Thor insisted, "All of them!"

Loki sighed, "What about Lady Sif?"

"Sif's not a girl!" Thor told him.

"Then what is the title **Lady** Sif referring to?" Loki rolled his eyes.

"I don't know."

"Alright," Loki groaned, "Back to the problem at hand."

"Right," Thor agreed, "I was just about to say that it might be easier if I met this girl that you are talking about. What is her name?"

Loki glared suspiciously at the guards, who were pretending not to listen but were obviously not trying hard enough. Their eyes kept darting back to the pair and they were failing to conceal amused sort of smiles. "Come on," Loki growled, shooting a dirty look at the two guards, "I'll introduce you to her."

They set off, Loki in the lead, followed by Thor. They got to Loki's room and entered. Loki spotted Shade working in the library, finishing her dusting. He wondered how she could keep doing such a boring and useless job, since he rarely read those books anyway, but then remembered that it was her job and that he shouldn't care. Thor's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked her up and down. Loki felt his fists clench in determination not to slap his brother, and he instead decided to go get Shade.

Before he could reach her, however, his brother burst out, "My lady! It is an honor to meet you!"

Loki face palmed as he saw Shade turn her head to the side, establish that there was another person besides Loki in the room, and turn around, head down. She bowed respectfully, "Thank you, my lord." Loki's face heated up a little, knowing that she had just addressed Thor in the same way that she addressed him, but it pleased him to hear her voice as it always was. He was tempted to hold his brother back as Thor approached her, but decided against it, preferring instead to see how she would react to Thor. She tensed when he drew within four feet, and took a step back when he got closer. Apparently she knew about Thor and his sexist views, because she seemed even less at ease with Thor than she was with Loki. He saw Thor a little taken aback by this cold reaction, but his idiot brother never knew when to give up.

"So you are my brother's new maid," he told her, grinning stupidly. She didn't change, only leaned back a little more, "He is a very lucky man to have you assigned to him."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Will you not say something different, fair maiden?"

"I do as I am told, my lord."

Loki felt a beast in his chest growl angrily. He wasn't hungry, and it took him a minute to realize that it was his Jotun form that was angry. He supposed it had something to do with possessiveness, for he had been known for guarding his stuff well, and here was Thor, trying to steal what belonged to him. Finally he could take it no longer. "Shade has to get back to work," he hissed. Shade looked at him with gratitude filled eyes, and then nodded at the ground.

"Yes, my lord."

"Oh, Loki," Thor complained, "How can you be so cruel?! Making this poor young lady clean for you while I am here! She will be distracted!"

"No, my lord, it is my job," Shade insisted, but Thor ignored her.

"Loki, I refuse to allow this young lady to work while I am here! Come," he turned to her, "Sit down so that I may know you better!"

Shade looked at Loki imploringly, obviously not keen on sitting down anywhere near Thor and his wondering hands. Loki sighed, annoyed at how unhelpful Thor was being, and nodded in the direction of the library, "You take orders from me, not him. Now go do your work."

She nodded, concealing a smile, and hurried off to continue her work. Thor glared at his brother, angry. "How can you be so mean to such a pretty woman?!" he inquired, standing up and asserting himself. He was an inch or two taller than Loki, and more than a few inches wider, but Loki didn't move.

"She is my servant, and I may do as I please with her. I came to you for help, but you have only been able to harass my maid."

"I'm sorry," Thor said, apparently trying to remember why he had come in the first place, "What was it I was supposed to be helping you with again?"

Then in the hallway came the loud voices of two others, and the footsteps of three. "Thor!" called one, "Where are you?!"

"In here, Fandral!" Thor called before Loki could stop him, and the warriors three came stomping into his room, tracking mud and grass everywhere. He turned and saw Shade peek in, an almost bored look on her face. He imagined how much work she would have to do after the four others left, which would hopefully be soon.

"Are you all going to congregate in my room, or could you muster up the energy to _get lost_?" Loki hissed sarcastically. He looked back at Shade, knowing how bad it would be for them both if Thor caught sight of her again, and she ducked back into the library.

Unfortunately, she didn't make it in time.

"Who was that, Loki?" asked Fandral, eyeing the library door curiously. Loki's Jotun side growled angrily inside his mind, warning him not to tell, reminding him of how Fandral was almost as bad-no worse than Thor when it came to women. But the question had caught the attention of the others, and they were all looking towards the library intently.

"It's only my servant," Loki told him dismissively. Fandral, however, didn't catch on to his flippant tone, and took it upon himself to go investigate, speaking as he went.

"She didn't look like a servant," he said, peeking around the doorway, "More like a fairy or elf of some sort. Loki groaned. Now that Fandral had started, it was unlikely that Shade would get any time to do her work, too busy getting annoyed by the two men to get anything done. Then he remembered just how much Shade would hate all the attention, and grinned to himself. _Finally_ , he thought, _revenge for waking me up so early_. He heard Fandral searching through his bookshelves and decided that he might as well enjoy the show, while he could. He turned to find the others deep in conversation, some debate about whether or not fairies existed, and then slipped into his library.

Fandral was walking down the aisle, looking into every lane, until he let out a sound of amusement and walked into one of the rows, grinning. Loki stopped at the end to watch Fandral attempting to have a conversation with Shade, who was immersed in her work and only occasionally agreeing with what he said, with a dazed, "yes, my lord," or, "no, my lord." She was obviously not paying attention, and eventually Fandral caught on, for when he did, he took the duster out of her hand and held it above her head, chuckling as she put the book back and looked up at the duster with the same look as before. Loki smirked, wondering how many different ways she could have gotten it back that she refused to commit. Such as breaking his arm or dislocating his knee cap or simply jumping and grabbing it out of his hand. He wished that she would just give in and do it, if only for an excuse to punish her, but he knew that she was too good of a slave to do anything like that.

Despite his amusement, a twinge in his chest told him that his more animal-like nature did not enjoy watching Fandral toying with her, but for now he ignored it.

"You think you can ignore me?" Fandral grinned, "Well, I'm not giving this back until you do as I say."

"I am a servant, my lord. It is in my nature to do what people say," Shade replied coolly.

"Fine then," Fandral chuckled devilishly, and the glint in his eye made Shade very uneasy. She was worried what might come next. Finally, he seemed to decide on what he wanted her to do. "Kiss me."

When Loki heard what he had said, he tried to stay calm. He knew that Shade had one million loop wholes she could and would use, and sure enough, she kissed his hand like the servants had been trained to do when visiting royalty came to Asgard. Loki sighed in relief, sure it was over, but alas, Fandral wasn't satisfied.

"Not there, sweet heart," he laughed. He pointed to his mouth, smirking, "There."

Shade turned paper white, taking half a step back, but Fandral grabbed her arm. Right over the area where Loki had carved his name into her flesh. "Don't run away, darling, I won't hurt you," Fandral grinned, "I just want a kiss before Thor gets to you. Is that so much to ask?" This was the final straw. Loki's Jotun form roared in anger under his skin, and he focused all his energy into keeping it contained, but he didn't move. He convinced himself to stand and watch.

Shade spoke, "I'm sorry, my lord, but-

"I love it when you call me that."

Loki gritted his teeth.

"My lord, I really have to get back to work!"

"Oh come on, it won't take long."

"Please, my lord, stop." Loki was beginning to hear signs of distress creeping into Shade's voice, and it took all of his remaining energy, magic and non-magic alike, to keep himself from shooting Fandral with an ice dagger.

"Oh, but I don't want to," Fandral laughed, moving his hand to the side of her face, "And you won't want me to either-

Loki didn't know what had happened, only that one minute he was at the edge of the row, the next he was at Shade's side, holding Fandral's arm away from her. She was shivering like a cornered animal. He was almost tempted to hit her just to bring her back to her normal self, but thought better of it. He instead turned angrily to Fandral and hissed through clenched teeth, " _Never_ touch what's mine!" He felt his hands grow colder than normal and begin to freeze Fandral's wrist.

He let go and took a step back, frozen fire still flitting about his eyes. The duster dropped to the floor and Fandral looked at him angrily. "She's _yours_ , huh?" Fandral scoffed, and with that, he walked out of the row, still fuming.

Loki watched him go, feeling his anger slowly subsiding, beginning to be replaced with something similar to embarrassment. He turned to Shade, looking her over carefully for injuries, and decided that that had probably been a very good start to getting her to trust him. She was leaning against the shelf, eyes closed, and he noticed that she did somehow look different. He realized that her hair was silkier, and her skin was cleaner, as well as her teeth. She looked more like a noble than a servant, because she was so clean. Only the dress was unchanged, and even it seemed less baggy. Her bones weren't showing.

"You look healthy," he said accusingly, "Why is that?" She didn't respond, only kept her eyes closed and breathed quietly. He asked the question again, and on the third time, she answered.

"I killed myself, my lord. That results in waking up healed. Malnourishment is basically a disease, and so I am healed from that as well. Also clean and such." She opened her eyes and stared him in the face, "Thank you my lord. I am grateful."

"Just remember," he chuckled humorlessly, "You owe me now."

"What more could I possibly do for you?" she asked him, kneeling down to dust the lower shelves.

"Are you suggesting that I owe you?" he asked.

"No, my lord, merely wondering what favor I could do for you than what I do already."

She was no longer paying attention. He could hear it in her voice. He knelt down to her level and smirked, "You could give me a kiss." She turned white and her gaze shot to him, eyes wide and scared, like an animal once again. He laughed, "Only joking." She sighed and Loki could smell a hint of something on her breathe. "Does your breath always smell like vanilla when you die and come back?" he asked, smiling as she blushed and looked at the ground.

"No one has ever informed me of that," she told him. He became aware of how close they were, and almost blushed as well. It made him wonder why he was suddenly blushing and protecting this servant girl, and also why he had himself made note of how pretty she seemed that morning.

* * *

Shade looked at the ground, heart still speeding, as she remembered how close Fandral had been. She shivered again, shutting her eyes and trying to forget, but only remembering his final words. _She's yours, huh?_ He had said in such a foreboding way, she couldn't help but feel haunted by those words. When he had asked her to kiss him, she had thought she could get around it, but he insisted. Thor, she could have dealt with. At least he was too stupid to be very threatening, but Fandral was different. He was between Thor and Loki, and more full of himself than both. She was thankful that she hadn't been assigned to him, unlike many other maids. She had heard things from the ladies who had worked in his quarters, of how much of a womanizer he was, or of how clever he was when it came to getting women to do what he wanted. He was charming, yes, but he liked getting what he wanted. Shade had hoped that she would never meet him, and if she had, she would have hoped it wouldn't have been under these circumstances. She was eternally grateful for what Loki had done, and just hoped that it had been enough.

Loki stood up and she followed, walking behind him as they exited the library. He grabbed a book as they passed a shelf, making it seem as though the reason he had spent so much time in there was because he had been finding a book, not because of Shade. She glanced at Fandral and was taken aback when he winked at her. She had expected him to stay back after the threat from Loki, but evidently that wasn't going to happen. She looked at Loki, but he had missed the interaction. She sighed and walked across the room to her bedroom, grabbed a new sheet and bedspread, and walked back across the room and into Loki's instead. Thor barely noticed her, but she felt Fandral's blue gaze on her the entire way. Loki was trying to shoo all of the others out, and didn't notice Fandral as he smirked at her again, bowed, and then exited the room.

Loki turned around and leaned against the door sweating, and gazed at her intently. She realized that she had been standing there for too long and went back to her work, stripping the sheets off of his bed and replacing them. She didn't notice him creep up behind her until she felt his breath in her ear. She jumped and spun around, nearly knocking into his chest, and tried to step back. She couldn't, however, and only managed not to fall onto the bed by grabbing Loki's shoulder and using it to stabilize herself. He watched her amusedly before sitting down on his new clean bed, wrinkling it.

"I have some questions for you, Shade, and I want you to answer them truthfully," He told her calmly, "and remember, I'll know if you're lying."

She looked apprehensive, wondering what he possibly want to know from her. He motioned for her to sit down beside him and she did so, well away from him. She didn't know if he noticed or not, but he did nothing to stop her from leaning away from him. She didn't like the feeling of sitting on an actually bed, and certainly not when it was next to one of the male species. She preferred her stone, though it made no sense. There was no familiarity in the bed, the stone she was more accustomed to.

He turned to her with one leg hanging over the edge, but she kept both of her feet planted on the ground. He reached out and grabbed her arm, shoving the sleeve up to check the scar. There were red markings where Fandral had grabbed her that made her feel somehow weak, but Loki only stared at them for a little while and let go of her arm. She pulled the sleeve back down, hurriedly, and another phrase came back to her.

 _Never touch what's mine!_ She felt like she was going to blush just thinking about it, and was glad that Loki said something, because she probably would have otherwise.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, my lord," she said sharply.

"I said don't lie," he growled, surprisingly insistent.

"Well, I'm fine now," she told him, "Or I will be."

"Good."

"May I ask why you care, my lord?" she asked tentatively, worried that she had crossed the line and tensing, preparing for a punishment of some kind. She felt a cold hand on her shoulder and startled and Loki spoke, softer than she had expected.

"Why are you always so tense?" he asked her, and she felt his breath on her neck. She didn't like sitting on the bed, she felt as though it projected some sort of illusion into both of their minds. He was too close, she decided, but she couldn't get herself to stand up.

"I suppose it's an old habit, my lord," she told him, closing her eyes and trying to relax.

"A habit from what?" he asked, surprisingly calmly, and the memories that question brought up made her shiver.

"When I was younger, and dead, I was forced to fight for entertainment," she confessed, almost whispering.

He looked at her with something close to pity, and she shied away from him, uncomfortable. She was almost positive that she could see him making an effort to look that way, sure that the whole thing wasn't genuine. She looked at the ground, feeling depressed and relaxed when he took his hand off of her shoulder. She heard him sigh exasperatedly, almost silently, and knew that he wasn't being genuine in his care. Somehow, that made her feel better, like nothing had changed.

She was wrenched out of her reverie by his final question.

"Why are you afraid of affection?"

She blushed, staring even more intently at the ground, and wished that he hadn't asked that.

* * *

 **I'm so, so sorry for this few month delay. I have no excuse except that I've been in serious writers block, and if any of you are writers, you know how hard it is to write something good when you are low on inspiration. Please leave me feedback; I want to know if I've strayed from the previous story line at all. Thank you to anyone who is still reading.**


	5. Chapter 5-Quality Time

**OHMYGOD! I am so sorry this took so long!**

Chapter 5

Quality Time

Shade and Loki sat side by side on Loki's bed. Loki had just asked her the question. _Why are you afraid of affection?_ It rang in her ears, traveling through her brain, and she sighed, giving up. There was no way she was going to avoid answering, not this time. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth and told him everything she remembered involving the instance, so many years ago, when she had been shown warmth and care by someone she had trusted. Hel had been convincing, kind, like a mother to her. For about a year. She told him about how she had betrayed Shade, had thrown her in a cage and slashed her. Death by one thousand cuts, she said, kept alive by a thread.

She didn't tell him about how she couldn't trust anyone else ever again because of it. She didn't tell him about how she had cried for her mother, and gotten what she had wanted, to see her mother. She didn't tell him about how he was too close, or about how terrified she had been when Fandral had been so near. She knew that he either knew or didn't care. Finally, when she was done, he nodded. There was something in his eyes, almost like empathy, that she could swear was real, but then he smiled and got up and walked out of the door. She would never understand him. She didn't really want to, either.

"Shade!" she heard him call, and she got up and walked out. She was caught by surprise when she saw how much dirt was tracked around the main room. She groaned, annoyed, and went back to her room, carrying the dirty sheets off of the ground so that they didn't get dirty. She came back out with a mop, and immediately set to work scrubbing the floor. "How do they track so much mud in such a small space?" Loki asked.

"I've no idea, my lord," she said absentmindedly.

"Why are you never paying attention?" he asked her.

"I've no idea, my lord."

She heard a chuckle and looked up to see him leaning against the wall, laughing. She rolled her eyes and looked back at the ground, but the next minute her face was wrenched up towards his and he glared down at her angrily. It was disconcerting, how quickly he could switch from carefree to fiery. "What was that?" he growled, "Why did you roll your eyes?"

"I'm sorry, my lord. It's just that I didn't mean to be funny, and there you were laughing. I meant no disrespect."

He looked at her for a moment, then sighed and let her face drop gently. "I hate that I can never punish you for anything reasonable."

"That's never stopped you before."

"True, I suppose, but you're just too angelic. I loathe it. You've never done anything actually bad!"

"Angelic, my lord?" she asked doubtfully, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, you're all pale and bright," he said, gesturing to her hair and skin, "and you, like, never do anything wrong!"

It was here turn to laugh. "My lord," she said between laughs, "I have committed so many wrongs, I doubt if I ever actually die, I would be let anywhere near Valhalla. I'd be sent to the deepest dungeon of Helheim and trapped there to suffer for all eternity."

"Then that makes two of us," he chuckled.

He had never heard her laugh before. It sounded melodic, yet ominous, creepy but beautiful. His Jotun side purred happily inside his chest and he became painfully aware of how close they were. He almost wanted to close the distance, but he knew that that was only his more instinct centered side. Still, he saw for the first time how pretty she was when she smiled, and how her hair flew around her face and brushed his chest and…

In short he wished that he could let himself just be Jotun for now. Unfortunately, he couldn't let that happen, or he would be thrown in the dungeon or worse. He felt her leave to get back to work and stood completely still. Was his Jotun side getting more powerful? He was hearing it much more often. But not a real voice, thank god. More of feelings, like approval or anger. If it were stronger, he would be hearing the voice of his other side speaking inside his head, giving him advice and such. He waited a second to make sure that he hadn't just jinxed it, but heard no voices. He would recognize it if it came back. It had been speaking very often back before he knew his true identity. It had been like his own voice, but darker. More evil, rougher, scarier. He wondered if it had changed since he was younger, but wasn't too keen to find out.

He looked at Shade and wondered if she thought that she was a monster like he did himself. He heard another rumble and sighed, agitated. Just looking at her couldn't wake up his Jotun consciousness. Then he realized that it was actually his stomach and that he shouldn't be worried. He hadn't noticed how late it was, or how hungry he was, but it was already about five o'clock. He had slept earlier and imagined that was why he felt so off.

"Should I get you something to eat, my lord?" he heard Shade ask, and he nodded. She quickly dried the floor off, propped the mop up against the wall, and went to grab the dirty sheets. His stomach growled again and he sat down, tired as well. It hadn't been a very long day, but it had felt that way. He looked at Shade, carrying the sheets out the door, and wondered how she could keep it up. Every day, working nonstop to clean his room, wash his clothes, get him food, and much more. He was tired and all he had done that day was watch her. He sighed, laying back in his chair, and shut his eyes, wondering how he would get her to trust him, and if any of his pity acting had gotten him anywhere during their conversation on the bed, trying hard to forget how happy and relaxed his Jotun side had been, how he had noticed every little detail in her face through eyes that were not his own.

Shade walked down the hall, towards the cleaning room, before grabbing Loki's food. He really was beginning to scare her, the way he was always so close to her. He had scared her before, but he had also left her alone. Now she was rarely out of his presence. He had been kind and all, and she was grateful for him saving her from Fandral, but she wasn't sure what his motivation had been for it. It wasn't like he actually cared about her. No one did. So what was he after? If she needed to tell him that she wasn't into maniacs-well, she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

She was too busy thinking to be paying much attention, and didn't see the person in front of her until it was too late. She bonked into the armor, which sent a jolt down her spine. She rubbed her head, groaning. "Sorry," she said, not sure to add the 'my lord' in case she had walked into the Lady Sif. Unfortunately, she hadn't, and instead, the person she had run into was…

"Looks like it's my lucky day," called the voice of none other than Fandral. Shade sighed and shut her eyes and wondered if she could keep herself from hurting him for much longer. She had been very afraid the first time, but this encounter would hopefully chase him off.

"Good for you, my lord," Shade groaned dryly, making sure that even Thor could have picked up her sarcasm. But…

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" he said, completely oblivious to her blunt annoyance. She rolled her eyes and took a step back, wondering how she was going to get rid of him. She could always tell him about her little death problem, but she somehow doubted that he would care. She could kill herself, but she didn't think leaving her unconscious body with Fandral was a good idea either. She could feel her face starting to heat up, still staring at the ground, decided that she might be able to get her work done easier if she had a little guard dog. She knew many other 'pretty' maids (so said the guards), and maybe one of them would dislodge Fandral from her hip.

She dodged around him and walked down the hall, making sure not to run into anyone else. As expected, Fandral followed her. Well, so much for him giving up. Shade looked around every door, searching for any of the self-proclaimed "pretty" maids. Even a noble would be great. She finally came to the kitchen door, and walked down the steps into the brightly lit, knife filled room. She nodded at a couple of them, who quickly filled up a tray with tea, bread, and some other stuff that she didn't recognize but that still made her mouth water.

Many of the women glanced behind her, and Shade wondered if nobles ever came down here. She suspected that they didn't, knowing how little the upper class dealt with the servants. She hoped that Fandral would leave, or go over to one of the other women, but he stayed behind her, looking around curiously. She took the food tray and left, slipping by Fandral once again and leaving up the stairs and through the door. He followed, calling after her, "Am I getting the silent treatment now?" Shade didn't exactly know what that meant, but assumed that it had something to do with her not speaking. She decided that today wasn't the day to get whipped, considering she had just regenerated, and so responded.

"No, my lord," she said, "I am merely immersed in my job. It's oh so _interesting_ , after all."

If she had told that to Loki, he would have chastised her for lying. Fandral, however, did not possess those qualities and she was able to lie to him quite easily. "Just making sure," he yawned, and she hoped that he would go back to his room and leave her alone. He didn't.

Shade arrived at Loki's room and was about to open the door when Fandral grabbed her wrist. She tried to pull it out of his grasp, annoyed, but he didn't let go, and she was forced to wait outside of Loki's door, with a food tray in one hand and the door knob so close to her other. "My lord, I have to get this to Loki," she said imploringly.

"He can wait for a little bit, can't he?" Fandral pouted.

"My job is to make sure he doesn't need to wait," Shade contradicted.

"Oh, you haven't been gone that long."

"I have been gone long enough," she said, staring darkly at the ground.

"Will you not look me in the face?" he asked, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

She sighed, "Yes, my lord," and stared him in the face. He looked startled at her readiness to comply, and didn't register her actual eyes until a minute later. When he did, he jumped back and put his hand on his Rapier automatically.

"Wha-what are you?" he asked, mouth agape in astonishment.

She bowed, grinning. "My name is Shade, my lord. Try to kill me, I dare you." He gawked at her, not dropping his hand from the weapon, and kept staring at the closed door when she had left. Shade was still grinning on the other side of the door, but dropped it immediately.

"What took you so long?" came the voice of Loki from a chair by the empty fireplace.

"I had a run in with Fandral, my lord," she said, walking over to him and placing the tray on the table next to his chair. His head was back and his eyes were closed. His mouth was a line of indifference, and his legs were crossed and stretched out in front of him. His arms were folded behind his head. She yawned and picked up the mop.

"Did he bother you?" Loki asked from the chair.

"Yes, my lord, but I think I got rid of him."

"Weren't you terrified?"

"Not as much," she told him, "he was more of an annoyance than a creep."

"I have a feeling this has to do with me being there or not," Loki said mischievously, "do I make you nervous?"

"Yes, my lord, but for different reasons than you are implying."

"Oh yeah? Like what."

"Well," she said, "You tried to take over Asgard and Midgard, injured all of my predecessors, and made me fight a cat earlier."

"When you put it that way…" he yawned.

"It sounds like you are a twisted psychopath," she finished for him.

"Don't be mean," he whined.

"I wasn't trying to be." She finished her mopping and left to put it away. When she got back, she found that Loki still hadn't touched his food. "Aren't you going to eat, my lord?" she asked him. He opened one eye to glance at the food, then closed it again.

"I suppose I will eventually."

She realized for the first time that she hadn't eaten that day, and sighed again. Her work was done and she had nothing left to do. She wondered if the head maid would allow her to get something to eat. Her stomach growled and she sat down, waiting for orders. He didn't give any, and she found herself drifting off. She hadn't gotten any sleep that night. Dying was an okay substitute for a little while, but over twenty-four hours without sleep couldn't be erased by rejuvenation. She lay her head back against the wall and let her eyes close. No sooner had they done so did she hear Loki get up. Her eyes snapped open instantly, but he was only looking out the window. She stood up just in case, glancing at the tray of food. Only the bread was touched, and only a couple bites marred its skin.

When she thought about that, her thoughts turned to the scar on her arm. She shivered just thinking about it, and closed her eyes. Her hand found the spot where it was carved into her flesh, and she leaned her other shoulder against the wall. She would have to remember to sleep a bit after death next time. She felt like she was going to pass out any minute.

"Tired, slave?" Loki called from the balcony, and she only dimly registered that it was the first time that he had called her slave in a while.

"A bit, yeah," she gasped, trying to keep her eyes open.

"You got more sleep than me," he protested.

"I got no sleep, my lord. None at all."

"Oh," he said.

She pinched herself to stay awake and stood up straight. She was used to physical harm, but anything like it still made her jump, startle, or at least flinch in some visible way. She was glad that Loki didn't know, or she would never hear the end of it. She walked over to his food tray and looked back at him, "Are you done eating, my lord?"

"No, I'll finish it later."

"Anything I can do for you, my lord?"

"N-wait." He turned around and grinned, "I'll think of something eventually." She glared at him. What he had basically just said was stay awake until I say not to. He was toying with her. She was not amused.

Loki watched Shade sit on the ground, cross legged, and attempt to stay awake. He wondered how long she would last, but felt himself getting a little weary as well. He leaned against the railing and stared out over Asgard, taking in the random states of death and decay taking place all over the garden, forest, and so on. Loki yawned again and turned around. Shade was staring straight ahead into empty space. He supposed that she was cursing him inside her head. It was getting dark, and he looked back at his food, no longer interested.

It suddenly struck him that Shade hadn't eaten at all that day, as well as gotten no sleep. He felt a tiny bit guilty for eating so little and keeping her awake, but dismissed it. The twisted Jotun part of him actually wanted to go and sit next to her, but he wouldn't let that side control him again. Already it had stopped him from calling her slave, made him be closer and kinder. He intended to get back at it by punishing her. Still, the close part may have helped him a bit. If he could just tone it down a little, maybe ignore her more, and jest with her, she might actually fall for it.

 _Fall for him_ , said an almost silent voice in the back of his mind. He swore out loud and her gaze shot to him in an instant. The voice had been that of his own, when he was attempting to be intimidating. Dark, evil, scary, and pretty much the same as the voice he had used with her when they had first met. He swore again and imagined himself slapping his Jotun form across the face. Shade stood up, leaning exhausted against the wall, and he looked at her, feeling a mix of emotions bubble up inside him.

He heard the voice continue talking, but it was too quiet for him to hear, and he ignored it. "What are you looking at, slave?" he hissed, and her gaze dropped to the ground, dejectedly. He felt instantly sorry, but ignored it. From now on he would stick to the plan, hopefully without becoming schizophrenic. She just kept looking at the ground, however, and he began to feel ticked off. With a huff, he sat back down in his chair, and heard her go back to her previous position as well, cross legged and leaning against the wall. He waited for a while, relaxed and thinking, and didn't realize that the sun was long gone until it was nine o'clock.

Loki turned around to see Shade curled up, eyes closed, leaning against the wall. Her breath seemed even, and she appeared to be sleeping. He got up and walked over to her. She looked so peaceful that he almost wanted to freeze her in ice to preserve the image. He poked her in the arm, and when she didn't respond, he pulled up her sleeve to check her arm. The scar was white and eerie against her already pale skin, and he could barely see her bone through it. Her flesh was no longer translucent as before, probably healthier. He looked at her other arm, wanting to check on how well dying had healed her, and rolled up its sleeve as well.

Loki gasped at what he saw. There was a long indent in her arm, a literal dip, like a dent. It took him a minute to realize that it was the bone fragment that he had taken out of her arm, the one that was still on the table. He looked over and it was there, gleaming in the light of a crescent moon, and small sliver of her bone. He moved to it and picked it up, and examined it. The blood was gone, but aside from that, it was unchanged. He slipped it into his pocket and took one last look at her. The voice told him to pick her up and put her in her bed. Then some rather nasty images crossed his mind and he decided to leave Shade where she was.

He crossed to his room and shut the door behind him. Then, using magic to change, he flopped down in bed and fell asleep instantly.

Loki awoke to footsteps moving about his room. He propped himself up on his forearms and saw that his door was open, his room clean, and a fresh pair of clothes folded neatly in a chair in front of a desk he never used. He looked toward the door and saw her shadow directly across the hall in her own room. She seemed to be stretching, and he wondered if she had just woken up. He stretched as well and slipped out of bed.

He was wearing green sweatpants, but no shirt. His feet were bare as well. He yawned and leaned against the door frame, waiting for her to leave. She did, and walked across the room into his own without giving him a single look. She stripped the bed of its covers and sheets and carried them past him once more, not even looking at him. She went into her room and came back out with new sheets and blankets. She reentered his room, fixed the bed, and walked out again empty handed.

Loki couldn't take any more of her ignoring him. The voice in his head was getting angry as well, but he was able to easily disregard it. He grabbed Shade's arm and she turned around, glaring at him. He smiled, "What did I do?"

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and relaxed, letting her shoulders drop dramatically. "Nothing, my lord," she told him, avoiding eye contact.

He jerked her forward, "Don't lie to me, slave!"

"Well, my lord," she said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, "It's just-

"Spit it out, slave."

"You kept me awake for no reason! I had to keep myself awake for over 48 hours straight!" she growled.

"You forgot something." She looked at him confusedly. "The 'my lord'?" he specified.

"Oh," she gasped, "Sorry, my lord."

"You know what?" he said, thinking, "I actually prefer it when you don't say that. Can you forget about the 'my lord' part?" It wasn't him talking. Apparently him standing shirtless in a doorway clutching her arm to the wall was too much for the Jotun part of him, for it was suddenly more powerful.

"Um, sure, my lord."

"Don't call me my lord, slave."

"Sorry my- I mean sorry," she said, flustered.

He smiled, "How long have you been calling people 'my lord'?"

"Six years in the living, twelve in the dead," she said, not really caring to elaborate. He just looked at her, wondering how it felt to have to say that. He then started wondering how to get rid of the annoying voice telling him that she needed a hug. If he tried to hug her, she'd probably throttle him. Still…

"What would you do if I tried to hug you?" he asked nonchalantly. She immediately became anxious, an angry glint finding it is way into her eyes, as if just the thought was bad enough. "Point taken," he said, backing away and letting go.

She changed the subject back to what it had been before, "What do I call you then?"

"Loki will suffice."

"Alright Loki," she smiled, and he was taken by surprise, "I would recommend you go put some clothes on."

"Why," he asked her suspiciously.

"Because we're going for a walk."

"You can't tell me what to do, slave!" he protested, growling.

"Oh, relax, it'll be fun," she rolled her eyes, "And besides," she explained, a hint of mischief sneaking into her features as she glanced down at his bare chest, "You could use the exercise." He punched her arm indignantly, but smiled against his will. He couldn't stop thinking about how much he liked that look on her face.

Shade was feeling rebellious that morning. She also felt like getting back at Loki for being a jerk last night. He left her sleeping on the floor. Though it was to be expected, it still ticked her off quite a bit. Her back was all sore. He was such a jerk. She planned to get him back somehow, but was still working on a couple of things, but otherwise, she felt like it might be satisfactory for a revenge scheme. Shade had been out early, finding Thor and telling him that Loki was working on his reaction to surprise attacks, had been unsuccessful in finding any real world situations to train with. Thor would do the rest, and if anyone asked, he'd heard it from Sif. She was feeling pretty proud of herself, and waited outside the door to Loki's room.

She wondered why he had been shirtless. She had laid some nicely folded clothes out on his chair, he could've at least had the decency to dress himself. Geez. The real reason she was so ticked off was the fact that seeing him shirtless had actually made her a little bit uneasy, and we all know what that means. By the standards of any boy crazy girl, the fact that a boy made you queasy meant that you two were destined to be together. Shade didn't think like that, but the idiots that passed for nobles did, and she occasionally heard them talking about how they "thought they were going to throw up, Thor's so cute!" She personally didn't see how an upset stomach meant attraction, but who knew?

She stepped back when he opened the door, now in his normal leather outfit, and she wondered if he ever wore anything besides those and pajamas. She felt like he had a suit of armor somewhere, but had only ever seen it once. In his brother's crown ceremony. Five years ago. No one had really been scared of Loki then. Tons of people had been scared of her. For a self-conscious fifteen year old, it was a bad environment to spend your time in.

Loki passed her and walked out the door. Shade leaned back against the wall to let him by, then followed at his heel, smiling to herself. She had noticed a bit of a change. He was no longer punishing her as severely as he had in the beginning. It made her more likely to test her limits. She wondered how far she could take it, but so far it seemed fine to order him around a bit.

"Well, we're here," Shade said anxiously, shifting uneasily and looking around. She began to wonder if Thor had been able to understand what she was implying, and worrying that Loki had caught on, and all sorts of other doubts.

"Yes, I can see that," he said, watching her with a look of puzzlement on his face. They kept walking for a time, but neither payed much attention to the scenery. Shade was looking around for Thor and Loki was staring her in the face. Finally he asked, "What is it?" and she sighed, knowing she couldn't lie

"I-

"BROTHER!" came a holler from the sky, and Loki jumped, glaring at her for a split second. And then… SMASH! Loki was hit in the chest by a flying Thor and they both collided with a tree. Loki sat in a crater in the tree, groaning, and Thor stood in front of him, smiling obliviously and laughing. "I thought you would prove to be a more worthy opponent," he taunted, and Loki glared from him to Shade, whose mouth was twitching from her attempts to conceal and grin. He raised his eyebrows at her and she laughed, and true laugh in genuine amusement.

"So the revenge game has begun, has it?" he chuckled, and Shade stopped laughing, suddenly looking a little bit nervous. He smirked, looking back at Thor, "she put you up to this, did she not?"

"Yes, brother, she is quite a cunning foe!" Thor laughed, ignoring Shade's I'm-going-to-murder-you-face.

"Watch out, she's angry," Loki snickered, and Thor turned to look at Shade. In the time it took her to blink in surprise, Loki had scrambled out of the indent and pounced on Thor's back, hitting him in the back of the head with a well-crafted punch. Thor yelled and what commenced was a high stakes brotherly wrestling match. Loki laughed and hopped off of his brother's back, while Shade backed up and leaned against the tree to watch. She found it rather entertaining, as well as surprising that Loki wasn't actually a terrible fighter.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his eye and then get pummeled repeatedly in the chest by his older brother. Shade giggled, taking back what she had just thought. Loki was nothing to Thor when it came to fighting. Loki seemed to hear her and the next thing she knew he was directly behind her. "Enjoying yourself, slave?" he asked, grabbing her shoulders and yelling, "Over here you big oaf!"

"Loki!" she yelled, trying to elbow him, "Let go of me!" She couldn't see his face but she imagined he was smirking like he always did when she was annoyed or uncomfortable.

"You started it," he laughed, letting go of her shoulder with one hand to restrain her elbow.

She flushed with anger, "You didn't let me sleep earlier! You started it!"

Thor raised his eyebrows, apparently not understanding what she meant by this. "Loki…? Are you and Miss Shade…um…are you two…?"

"NO!" they both yelled automatically, and Shade felt Loki's breathe on the back of her head as he yelled. Shade was blushing for a different reason now, and she was glad that Loki couldn't see her face.

"Thor!?" came a yell from across the grounds, and both Loki and Shade swore under their breath. Fandral had joined the party. "Thor!" he yelled, "Where've you been!?" He ran the last few yards, panting, and stopped to stand in front of his friend. Fandral had yet to notice Shade and Loki, who hadn't moved for fear of alerting him to their presence.

"Sorry, friend. Loki and I were just having a friendly battle."

"Loki?!" Fandral asked, looking around. Finally he turned around and saw the other two leaning against the tree. His face lit up slightly and he bowed, "Miss Shade, I was unaware that you were here. And with Loki, as well. You do realize you still owe me."

"I thought you said you'd gotten rid of him," Loki whispered in her ear.

"I could have sworn I had!" she sighed, "He thought I was a monster!"

"What are you two doing, anyway?" Fandral asked, sounding a little jealous. Loki rested his chin on her head and slumped. She stumbled a little, trying to support his weight, but managed to stay upright.

"I'm using her as a shield, obviously," Loki sighed.

"Oh," Fandral raised one eyebrow, "May I have a turn?"

"Certainly," he laughed, "If she'll let you."

"Well she doesn't have a choice, does she?" Fandral grinned, walking over to them.

"Loki!" Shade yelled, "Get off of me so that I can punch you!" Loki didn't and she squirmed around to get out of his grip. Still Fandral came ever closer, and her heart rate picked up. She felt adrenaline flow through her veins and she froze. "Fine!" she hissed, "I'm sorry I asked Thor to attack you!"

He chuckled darkly in her ear, and then whispered, "Don't lie, slave."

"This is your revenge then, is it?" she asked, "Jerk."

"My turn!" Fandral insisted.

"Not in a million years." She kicked Fandral in the knee and he fell down in obvious pain. Shade laughed and Loki let go, also laughing like crazy. She took this opportunity to run back towards Thor, who was chortling almost as much as Loki.

"What was that for?" Fandral yelled, "And where did you learn to fight, anyway?"

"God, you're an idiot!" Loki snickered, "Didn't you know that she comes from Hel?!"

"Plus I hate you!" Shade joined in.

Thor finally walked over and helped Fandral to his feet, and to Shade's astonishment and displeasure, he was grinning once more. "You'll be tough. Good thing I love a challenge."

When the two had left, Shade turned to Loki and he knew that he was in for it. "WHAT THE HEL WAS THAT FOR!" she yelled, and he began to see the resemblance of herself and Hel.

"Payback, as you very well know," Loki laughed, trying not to sound terrified, "And besides, you didn't suffer did you? It was me who got tackled by Thor, not you."

Shade gritted her teeth and then did the most unexpected thing. She punched him in the gut. Loki coughed, doubling over, having had the wind knocked out of him. She stood straight over him, not smiling, and then she turned around and walked back up the stairs and into the castle, ignoring the fact that he wasn't with her. When he finally got his breath back, he was infuriated. _How dare she!? How dare she assault him!?_ he thought, feeling his fingers itching to strangle her. But the other half spoke. _That's the classic way that girls flirt with guys,_ it said _, just like what you did was the classic way that guys flirt with girls._

 _I wasn't flirting with her!_

 _Go on, be honest, I won't tell._

 _I WAS NOT FLIRTING WITH HER!_

 _Yeah, sure._

Loki finally sighed, standing up and brushing himself off, when his thoughts turned to another corner of his mind. He smiled, finally realizing the mistake she'd made. At long last, he now had a perfectly legitimate excuse to punish her. "Not so perfect now, are you slave?" he chuckled under his breathe, and with that, he too walked back to the castle, internally concocting the worst and most painful sentence and his mind fell on something that she would hate, but also something that he might enjoy.

He had been being unusually nice lately. Why not take it to the next level?

 **I am so sorry that took so long. Sometimes I feel like writing this story, but then I lose my inspiration. That's the one problem, and the reason my stories take so long to write.**


End file.
